Date Night
by eng.ski
Summary: After an unwelcome encounter, revenge is not only hatched but soon out of control as an unlikely friendship develops.  When everything comes crashing down, can all be forgiven and the relationship repaired, or is history destined to repeat?
1. Chapter 1 Habits Die Hard

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note I**: Below you'll find the first installment of DN. This chapter is rated T, at best, though the story as whole will be rated M. Though it's not my first piece of fanfic ever written, it's my first exploration into the deliciousness that is Faberry. If all goes accordingly, updates will happen at least once a week. Please enjoy and review. I'd love to hear your comments, complaints and constructive criticism.

**Chapter 1 – Habits Die Hard  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

Head on a swivel, Rachel's brow scrunched in confusion, then understanding as her gaze rotated back and forth from the screen to the blonde standing before her.

"Quinn?" she managed to squeak out as tears, welling up in her brown eyes, threatened their descent.

Quinn's breaths came in small, shallow gasps. She fought to regain her voice, to salvage the world she had carefully constructed for months from collapse. With panicked eyes and her mouth alarmingly dry, she barely managed to urge forth the whisper. "Rachel."

"No. N- no, no. No." Stammering, the small diva rose from her perch, limbs shaking with rage as she began to back away.

Quinn cautiously paced forward before rapidly retreating. Frozen in place, she gasped and brought her hand to her chest, hugging the jolt of pain that radiated in her core from the look on Rachel's face, the disgust in her eyes. Desperation forced the words from her mouth.

"Please, Rach. Just let me explain. I-"

"No."

Quinn's eyes pleaded, begged from across the room.

"NO. Get the hell out!"

* * *

><p><em>Months Earlier<em>

A lone figure glanced around the dim-lit dressing room, the only light emanating from the vanity tables, and gained her bearings as she prepared for what was soon to unfold. It didn't take her long to pinpoint her sought out area in the shared space—a picture of Barbra plastered to the side of the mirror was an easy clue. Curious, she approached the vanity, seeking out additional information of how the tiny diva's life may have morphed since leaving Lima over five years ago.

She pulled out the vanity's chair and sat, leisurely drumming her fingers across the wood as she gathered her intelligence. She let out a small, pitying chuckle, "Some things never change..." Holding places of honor amongst portraits of her fathers and spontaneous moments with cast mates from various shows was a large picture of the William McKinley's Glee Club as well as a shot of the diva wrapped in the arms of none other than Finn Hudson. She had heard the rumors that the two on-again, off-again romancers had to continue their relationship through college, and if the picture was any indication, into their post-grad lives, too.

Looking at her watch, she mumbled out of aggravation, "Where the hell is she?" The applause, bows, and curtain closing ended more than thirty minutes ago and she couldn't believe the actors were still receiving notes. Bored, she slowly rolled out the tension in her neck as her eyes continued taking liberties in invading the personal space in front of her. Stretching, a metallic glimmer caught her eye. Reaching under a discarded towel, she retrieved a small tablet PC begging to be investigated.

Craning her ears for any sounds of the returning cast, she powered up the small device. "I wept as our bodies made the music of love. 'I'm your rhapsody, play me!' 'Crescendo, my young maestro, crescendo!'" It appeared that one of the diva's preshow relaxation regimens included reading smut-filled romance novels. With a shake of her head, she navigated to the home screen and started examining the apps. Many, such as shortcuts to email, weather, current trending games, were common place, but a particular app stood out from the rest. "Date Night...hmmm."

Without a second thought, she touched the icon and it began to load. Clicking her tongue impatiently, a wave of doubt crept in as she questioned her brief intrusion into the diva's personal life. She had never heard of this app, and unsure of its intended purpose, worried that soon her senses would be assaulted with the sickeningly sweet details of the diva and her beau's presumed love life as they tried to plan time together amongst their busy schedules.

With a flash on the tablet's screen, the doubt vanished as rapidly as it had appeared. Her mouth spread into a victorious sneer as she read the apps' banner: "An online dating community for New Yorkers." Her grin endured as she realized the diva was already logged in to the site. With a flick of her finger, she continued her expedition of the diva's private life:

***  
><strong>RasBerry419<strong>

_Where's My Prince Charming?_

**Last** **log** **in**: Active within 24 hours

**Age**: 22

**Location**: Manhattan

**Seeking**: Males 20-35

**Relationships**: Single

**Kids**: Maybe some day

**Ethnicity**: White/Caucasian

**Body** **type**: Toned/Athletic

**Height**: 5'2"

**Religion**: Jewish/Christian

**Smoke**: No

**Drink**: Socially

**About me and what I'm looking for**:

I come from a small, liberal and very open-minded family. I'm constantly singing and dancing, so you'll need to be able to put up with that. I'm hoping to meet other individuals interested in the singles scene, but who are possibly interested in something more serious.  
>***<p>

Scrolling down the page, she analyzed the only picture included on the profile – a dark-haired woman in motion as she looked over her left shoulder, smiling. Shaking her head in amusement, she reached into her bag to retrieve her steno pad and pen. As she continued to scroll through the dating profile and again glance around the vanity, she began taking copious notes in attempts to seize as much information as possible.

Her feverish scribbling came to a sudden halt as her gaze once again fell on the framed picture of the high school sweethearts. She cocked her head and tapped her pen to her lips, her confusion growing. Why on earth would the diva be logged on to a dating site, listing herself as single no less, if she was happily dating the giant? And if they were once again off-again, why continue to have the posed photo on display?

The all too delicious mystery was intriguing and soon her mind was flooded with theories and questions. So deep in her musings, she failed to hear the approaching stampede of the cast's footfalls and was only snapped back to the reality of the moment by the sound of the turning doorknob.

"SHIT!" she cried, as she leapt to her feet, sending the vanity chair skidding across the tiled floor. As the door continued to open, the woman frantically tried to conceal her snooping as she rushed to replace the overturned chair and return the tablet to its veiled existence underneath the towel.

"Ms. Berry?" A man's muffled voice floated in from the other side of the door.

"Yes?" The door halted its progress and froze, halfway open.

"You have a visitor. It's-"

With an irate huff, the diva answered, "If I remember correctly, and I'm certain I do as I'm rarely wrong, I believe everyone was instructed to not let Mr. Hudson return to my dressing room under any circumstances."

"Yes, Ms. Berry, and I explicitly followed your direction. Myself, and well ultimately security, removed Mr. Hudson from the theatre's premises earlier this evening."

There was a long pause as the diva awaited for further explanation.

"Your visitor is a reporter."

"Oh!" The reply noted the obvious change in tone, her voice no longer strained with the frustration of having an unwelcome guest. As she swung the door open the remainder of way, "Thank you very much, Mich-"

The diva's brown eyes quickly surveyed the room and as they landed on the figure standing in front of the vanity, her face instantly fell. Craning her head back out the door she shouted, "Michael!"

"Yes?" came the far off, but worried reply.

Speaking through clenched teeth, Rachel Berry turned her red hot gaze toward her guest and uttered, "If you would be so kind, please amend my previous list of unwelcome visitors to include not only Jacob Ben Israel and Mr. Hudson, but also Quinn Fabray."

* * *

><p>"Rachel. Really now, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Quinn questioned as Rachel's stomach plunged in doubt, long-forgotten high school demons and taunts slithering their way back into her consciousness.<p>

"I'm sure your fathers taught you better manners than that." Quinn mocked.

Pursing her lips, Rachel bit back her anxiety and titled her chin with a feigned air of confidence. "They most certainly did, of course. But, Quinn, it's obvious that you and I remember high school quite differently." Rachel briefly shivered, a movement that did not go unnoticed by Quinn, as the thoughts of an ice-cold, breath-taking slushy crossed her mind.

"Oh, but those were great times, don't you think, RuPaul? It seems just like yesterday we were all calling you Manhands behind your back. And, if you'll give me just a second longer, I'm sure I can come up with yet another fitting name," Quinn goaded. "I'm quite good with words now, you know. Being a reporter and all."

With a fresh wave of humiliation threatening to crash and blushing beet red in embarrassment, Rachel screeched, "MICHAEL!" through the open doorway.

Knowing she had pushed too far, Quinn attempted to clear the air. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry, Rachel. Honestly. I was just kidding. Except for the reporter bit. That's the truth." Quinn flashed her press badge and a forced smile in Rachel's direction.

However, before their conversation could continue, the air was disturbed by the high-pitched, excited voices of Rachel's fellow cast members entering the dressing room.

"Can you believe Robin missed her mark again in the second act!"

"For real. I don't understand her problem. It's not like we didn't go over the blocking again and again during rehearsal."

"I know, right? Also, did you see when-"

The two girls grew quiet as they took in their surroundings and realized they had an audience to their backstage gossip. Detecting the noticeable tension in the air, Molly and Briana looked from the annoyed diva to the smirking blonde with interest.

"Hey, Rach. Everything good here?" asked Briana.

But before Rachel could reply, Quinn swiftly stepped forward and extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Quinn Fabray. No need to worry. Rachel and I go...way back. We went to high school together, sang in the Glee Club. What a wonderful show you all put on today, and from where I sat, you couldn't even tell Robin missed her mark. Again."

Casting a sidelong glance towards Rachel's fuming form, Molly filled the silence. "Um, that's so nice that one of Rach's old friends was able to come and see the show."

Briana, however, was a bit more skeptical, and rotated her body and took on a protective posture. She stood, arms crossed and fired back, "Though I don't remember hearing your name ever mentioned before in the numerous stories we've heard about Rachel's high school days, including the Glee Club." Pausing briefly to refocus her intense stare on the blonde, she continued, "So you'll have to forgive me for questioning your sincerity because-"

But before the situation could escalate further or Quinn could have an opening to say why Rachel has never once mentioned her name, Rachel took control. Stepping in front of her friends she explained, "You can back off, Briana. It's okay. Really. Quinn was actually just on her way out." Her words were emphasized by the sweeping motion of her hand towards the door.

"But, Rachel...our interview?" Quinn quickly countered.

Rachel clenched her jaw in frustration, but before she was able to speak, Molly's excitement took over. "Rachel! An interview? That's wonderful!"

With pupils sending daggers Quinn's way, Rachel responded quickly, "Quinn, I'm not doing an interview. Now if you would please-"

"But Rachel, that's just silly," chided Molly as her face crinkled up in confusion.

Briana chimed in, "I'm actually going to have to agree with Molly on this one, Rach. I mean, can any of really afford to turn down an interview? We've gotta get our names out there any way we can."

Quinn smirked, knowing that Rachel would have a hard time refusing now that her friends were aware, and added, "Please, Rachel. It shouldn't take much of your time. We can do it right now if you'd just like to get it out of the way."

Defeated and just wanting to be out of the situation, Rachel finally relented. "Fine, Quinn. There's a coffee shop right across the street from the theatre. I'll meet you there in twenty."

* * *

><p>Quinn sipped her latte, and yet again glanced at her watch. She let out an exasperated sigh. "Jesus, Berry. Get your ass in gear." Over thirty-five minutes had passed and Quinn was getting restless. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and the caffeine was quickly affecting her mood. She began to gather her belongings. She was positive Rachel had blown off their meeting when the shop's bell announced a new patron.<p>

Looking up, Quinn watched as a confident Rachel Berry entered, clad in slim fit jeans and a simple, plain tee. _At least her sense of style has improved_, she thought.

Rachel sent a curt nod Quinn's way, acknowledging her presence, before placing her order with the barista.

Walking towards the table with her large cup, Quinn now noticed the darker circles under Rachel's eyes that were previously hidden by her stage makeup. "So I thought we said we were meeting in twenty?"

Rachel frowned, willing herself to calm down. _Barbra, Liza, Patti – Please grant me the serenity to not reach across the table and strangle that bitch._ Hooking her purse on the back of her chair, Rachel collapsed in a tired heap. "I would have been here over fifteen minutes ago had I not needed to convince Briana that I didn't need a bodyguard."

"Seriously?" Quinn scoffed.

Rachel shook her head. She was not in the mood for dealing with Quinn nor all the emotions that had returned upon seeing her face back in the dressing room. Thoughts of humiliation and being an outcast, feelings she had long ago pushed into the far reaches of her mind, had begun to worm out of their hiding places and poke holes in the armor she had carefully crafted since arriving in New York five years ago. "Yes, Quinn. Believe it or not, I have friends here. A support system. People who are willing to protect me, stand up for me. A lot's changed in five years."

"Yeah, I guess it all has. Sorry about getting on your case back there in the theatre, just some habits are hard to break you know?"

* * *

><p>The interview had been progressing well. After apologies were offered and accepted, the generic pleasantries exchanged – <em>How've you been? What have you been up to?<em> – Quinn explained to Rachel how after college, she had taken up freelance jobs to help pay the bills while she worked on her advanced degree. She had been aiding a number of clients when the call went out that stories were needed on the up and coming stars of the New York stage. Never expecting a compliment, Rachel had actually blushed when Quinn admitted that her first thought had been to seek Rachel out.

Flipping through her steno pad and referencing her pre-brainstormed questions within her Moleskin, Quinn announced, "I think I've got most of what I need. Just let me double-check a couple of things...um, I, ah, I noticed you had a picture of you and Finn on your vanity."

Rachel's shoulders slumped as she let out a labored sigh. The last topic of conversation she wanted to entertain, and especially with Quinn Fabray, was her ex. She took another sip of her now lukewarm coffee, choosing to ignore the question in hopes that Quinn would take the hint and move on to another inquiry.

With her eyes focused on the notebooks in front of her, Quinn missed Rachel's obvious signals that the current topic of conversation was not one she wished to contemplate, and unfortunately pressed further. "I was just wondering, 'cause I had heard you two attempted to do the long distance thing." She finally looked up from her notes and added, "Even though you're currently banning him from your dressing room, I'm glad it worked out for you. You...you looked happy together."

Rachel studied the face looking back at her and was shocked and grateful to actually see and hear genuineness in Quinn's voice. Looking down at the table she responded, "Thanks, but we're not together anymore. Hence the reason he's banned from my dressing room."

"But, why's the picture-"

Rachel's bottom lip began to tremble and her chin quivered as she finally met Quinn's eyes. "Some habits are hard to break. You know?"

"Aww shit, Rachel. I didn't mean to-" Quinn uttered as she began to fumble through her bag, retrieving a pack of tissues for the tears that were already cascading down Rachel's face.

Rachel gladly accepted the kleenexes, but as she blinked the tears away and dried her cheeks, a bitterness began to grow in the back of her throat and the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could give them a second thought.

"Well, that's good news for you though, right? He's no longer tied down so you can go ahead and swoop on in and claim him as your own. Again. Just like you always did."

Quinn deliberately breathed in two mouthfuls of air, willing herself to calm down and ignore the remark. She had known that her unannounced visit had the potential for disaster and that it would surely stir up old emotions. However, she had hoped Rachel would have grown up, matured some in the past five years. Instead of sending back the retort on the tip of her tongue, Quinn let the comment roll off her back and quickly turned her focus to her notes to find an unanswered question to regain control of the discussion.

"Moving on... Let's see...ok. Thinking back to high school, or I guess more accurately from the time you came out of the womb," at least this elicited a small smile from Rachel, "you knew you wanted to be a star, right? How do you feel now, knowing that your dreams are being realized?"

Rachel sniffed and blew her nose before answering. "I'm far from reaching my goals, Quinn. Being the swing in_ Hello, Again_, though a great achievement, is but a stepping stone to my true destiny."

Jotting notes, Quinn continued. "Okay, so you haven't made it big yet," Rachel frowned at Quinn's casual tone, "but you're on your way there. What or who do you owe your success to? Your fathers? Barbra?" Quinn looked up expectantly hoping her last comment could draw out another smile and ease the increased tension in the air.

Rachel thoughtfully trailed her finger around the rim of her coffee cup before answering. "Well," she started off slowly, "of course I credit my fathers. They're the ones that paid for countless voice and dance lessons, paid for college. They encouraged me when others tore me down." She shot a meaningful look across the table. "And then there's you, Quinn."

Quinn's hand paused over her notebook as she shifted her gaze and raised her eyebrows in question. She waited for Rachel to clarify.

"To be fair, it just wasn't you. I guess I'm referring to anyone who ever made me feel less than I was. People who shoved me in lockers, threw slushies on me every day-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Rachel, but I'm just not following..."

"You aren't?" Rachel rolled her eyes and hint of superiority crept into her voice. Sitting here, talking to Quinn and thinking about high school had reawakened too many feelings and Rachel was quickly losing the battle to keep her emotions in check.

"You, Quinn, and everyone at McKinley were one big fucking audience. Day in and day out I put on the performance of my life. Hit me with a slushy? Don't care – let me go sing out my feelings in Glee Club! Slam me into my locker? Whatever – I'll soon be out of this small town and on the stage while you're still stuck in Lima draining pasta at Breadstix. I had to act like everything was perfect every damn day. So yes, I credit much of my success to you. High school was just one, never ending performance until the final curtain call – graduation. That's when I got to leave you and everyone else, the lowest of low that made my life a living hell for four years, and never look back."

Rachel was confused as Quinn lifted her face, a smile beginning to form across her lips. "Oh, c'mon, Berry. It was high school. You know how kids are, we don't think things through; we say things we don't mean. Don't you think it's time to move on?"

The anger Rachel felt as Quinn made light of her admission, began to boil over. "At least I learned a couple of valuable lessons back then. Like how not to fuck up my life by having a baby." Rachel nearly spit the last word.

Quinn dropped her pen and through gritted teeth questioned, "What. Did. You. Just. Say."

"I didn't stutter, did I, Fabray? I think you heard me perfectly clear the first time."

Quinn was seeing red. All of sudden the lights in the coffee shop were too bright, too harsh. The conversations of the other customers too loud and the sounds of cutlery scrapping plates, bowls and mugs made her hair stand on end. Quinn opened her clenched eyes and hissed, "Get the fuck out my face."

* * *

><p>But the bell over the coffee shop's door rang, announcing to Quinn that Rachel was already long gone.<p>

Seething, Quinn angrily collected her belongings. Rachel had no right to acknowledge the unspoken skeletons of their pasts and in the process deliver the lowest of blows to Quinn.

As she exited through the coffee shop's door, Quinn only had a single thought in her mind.

_Some habits do die hard, Berry. And revenge is one of them._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note II<strong>: I cannot take credit for the hilarious lines of Rachel's smut-filled romance novel. They belong to the writers of the _Frasier_ episode "Slow Tango in South Seattle".


	2. Chapter 2 ReDo

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note I**: Second chapter for Date Night. Hoping next chapter will be up midweek, but I make no promises. Also, formatting is a bit wonky. There's many more horizontal breaks that I would like, but FF wasn't taking and saving my corrections. Alas. As always, please enjoy and review. Comments, complaints and criticism welcomed.

***EDIT 09.01.11*** I've reloaded this chapter after realizing some of the corrections in the formatting I thought worked out actually didn't. None of the actual content has been changed.

**Chapter 2 – Re-Do  
><strong>

* * *

><p>The sound of metal clattering to the floor echoed off the deserted hallway's walls. Quinn's anger towards Rachel was still so strong that her hands shook, making the simple task of unlocking her apartment's door difficult.<p>

She tossed her bag and coat across the back of the couch and let out an exasperated cry as her eyes began to brim with tears. Stomping her way to the bathroom, Quinn turned on the shower as hot as it could go. In that moment, she not only stripped off her clothes, but also the floodgates holding back her tears and insecurities.

Quinn couldn't be a child raising a child, she thought as she said made the hardest decision of her life and said goodbye to Beth in the hospital. After her body had returned to its former glory, when she was able to zip up that red skirt once more, it was as if the previous months had never occurred.

In the two weeks following the birth, everyone ignored her as she clutched her swelling chest, doubled-over by the discomfort and pain of having never nursed. No one talked to her, no one asked her what it felt like to give away a piece of her soul. Maybe they thought she wanted to put the memory, the experience behind her. That she honestly hadn't really cared at all about the tiny being. But the truth was Quinn cared. Deeply.

Hidden behind closed doors she had bonded with the kicking and squirming creature in her ever expanding belly. Whether out of compliment or protest, the kicking was always fiercest when she was singing songs and nursery rhymes, and the baby would roll and remain restless as she discussed her day class by class. At night when doing her homework, Quinn would talk aloud, explaining the minute details of the French Revolution, and the baby would remain eerily still as if soaking up all the knowledge her mother could impart before they said their goodbyes.

Quinn had wanted her baby to be smart, and Beth Corcoran didn't disappoint. Her name had appeared as one of graduates of her 2016 kindergarten class in a Lima area paper, and just like every mention of her girl in print before that, Quinn carefully clipped the article from the paper and safely sealed it away with all the others.

Unlike Rachel's cruel insinuation, Quinn's baby didn't fuck up her life. Instead, Beth was the greatest gift, even if she was no longer her own, Quinn had ever received.

The heat of the shower had not released the tension and anger from her frame as Quinn had hoped. Instead it renewed the fire in her belly for settling the score. She switched off the water and stood in the haze of the steam, plotting her next step.

* * *

><p>Wearing a simple tank and shorts, Quinn positioned herself in front of her computer, tucking her left knee under her chin. She absentmindedly checked her email, the weather, as her thoughts traveled to the cruelness of Rachel Berry.<p>

Quinn truly had the best intentions of helping the diva. She could have selected from numerous actors and actresses to profile in her piece, but she had chosen Rachel. Then, Rachel had to go and throw it all back in her face with a simple, heartless statement.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Quinn silently ticked off her options. Her first initial thought, to just forget the whole situation, was quickly tossed aside, her anger still fresh. Then, there was the article. She could easily paint a less than accurate picture of the small diva, possibly hindering her rising star. However, that would affect Quinn's credibility as a journalist, and she wasn't yet ready to commit career-suicide before her career had even really begun. So, if Quinn couldn't attack Rachel professionally, her other option was to make it personal, as Rachel already had. A small smile formed across Quinn's lips as she typed in a new address in her internet window's search bar: .

She was greeted with a similar version of the welcome screen that she had seen on Rachel's tablet earlier in the day, encouraging her to log in or make a new account to see who was waiting for her in the dating scene. With clicks of the mouse and strokes across keys, Quinn was nearly signed up for Date Night. The only tasks remaining: choosing a screen name and completing the profile.

Quinn sat back in her chair and pursed her lips in thought. She knew she needed more than a handsome picture to entice the diva, and racked her brain for possible screen names.

Rentboy5256? LizaLover? No, that would be pandering to the wrong crowd, she thought.

Maybe she could reference the city... NY152? BigApple1218?

No, they were too basic.

Then it hit Quinn. If she was going to pull this off, she needed to stick with what she knew.

* * *

><p><strong>TheFauxWriter<strong>

_Looking for friendship...and possibly more_

**Last** **log** **in**: Active within 24 hours

**Age**: 23

**Location**: Manhattan

**Seeking**: Females 20-35

**Relationships**: Single

**Kids**: Maybe some day

**Ethnicity**: White/Caucasian

**Body** **type**: Toned/Athletic

**Height**: 6'3"

**Religion**: Christian

**Smoke**: No

**Drink**: Occasionally

**About me and what I'm looking for**:

I'm a writer just getting started in this crazy world. With my hectic schedule, I've found it hard to really get out there and meet a lot of people. I'm not for everyone, but I know there's a person out there who will get me. Could that be you?

* * *

><p>Quinn gagged a bit at the last sentence. She wasn't one for the mushiness of relationships, but having witnessed Rachel Berry and her pining heart for four years, she knew it was the right sentiment to bait her.<p>

All that remained now was to upload a picture or two. Quinn scanned through her picture files, searching through shots of long forgotten boyfriends. She finally settled on two photos of Luke – an utter waste of two whole months her sophomore year in college. He fit the description Quinn had already established, and furthermore, he sported the dopey grin Rachel seemed to adore. With one final mouse click, Quinn was ready to let the games begin.

* * *

><p><strong>Date Night PM<br>Timestamp**: Sept 30; 11:43pm  
><strong>To<strong>: RasBerry419**  
>From<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>Subject<strong>: hey

|.

* * *

><p>Quinn had been staring at the flashing cursor in the empty message box for the past seven minutes. She smacked her forehead with her palm out of frustration. When had she ever been at a loss for words? When did she lose all ability to flirt? She was Quinn <em>fucking<em> Fabray, damn it!

_This shouldn't be this hard_, Quinn irritably thought. _I know her – I know how to break her. I watched her fall head over heels for years, one boy after another. Hell, we've even dated the same men._Quinn tried again, this time with success.

* * *

><p><strong>Date Night PM<br>Timestamp**: Sept 30; 11:52pm  
><strong>To<strong>: RasBerry419**  
>From<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>Subject<strong>: hey

Hi RasBerry,

I couldn't navigate away from your profile without leaving a message first, about how a great a smile you have. From just your one picture, I can tell that your smile can light up the whole room.

Have a great night,

TFW

* * *

><p>Quinn grinned. She had dropped the hook, and now she just needed Rachel to take the bait.<p>

* * *

><p>It had been a long day, and Rachel was restless as she continued to toss and turn in her bed. She flopped back yet again on her pillows, willing herself to find a comfortable position. There were two performances slated for the following day and she just needed her brain to shut off and stop processing. She didn't want to think any more about Quinn, Glee Club, Lima, how much she missed her fathers, and most of all, Finn. Though Briana and Molly repeatedly questioned Finn's fidelity, it wasn't until she caught him in the act with one of the chorus girls that she finally admitted to herself what she had known for weeks. Rachel ended it once and for all.<p>

As tears threatened to make yet another appearance on this horrible day, a 'BEEP' from her cellphone let Rachel know she had a new message.

Rachel had created her Date Night profile on whim, mostly pressured from the likes of Molly and Briana. Molly, who was raised on a Michigan orchard farm had actually uttered that Rachel just needed to get "...out in the field and see what was ripe for the pickin'". And ultimately, Rachel thought, what could it hurt?

Rachel couldn't help the giddiness she felt as she opened up her first private message via Date Night. The first smile in hours began to spread across her face as she read the charming message and checked out her admirer's profile, giving an approving head nod to the two pictures included.

Without too much overthinking, Rachel quickly sent a reply back. Then, she double-checked that her alarm was set for the morning, and returned to the warmth under her comforter and the kind comment from an unknown boy. In a matter of minutes, she was asleep.

* * *

><p>Brushing her teeth, Quinn heard her computer 'DING' and came bounding out of the bathroom, her toothbrush jutting out the side of her mouth and a layer of foam adhering to her top lip. Soon a smirk transformed her previously curious face as she read Rachel's reply.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Date Night PM<br>Timestamp**: Sept 30; 11:56pm  
><strong>To<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>From<strong>: RasBerry419**  
>Subject<strong>: Re: hey

Hi Faux,

I've had the most horrible of days, but your message just made my night. You're too sweet.

Hoping you had a lovely evening,

RB

ps. Your smile isn't too bad, either ; )

* * *

><p>As Quinn rinsed her mouth and climbed into bed, she couldn't suppress the smirk enveloping her face. Rachel had taken the bait. Now it was just time to slowly reel her in.<p>

* * *

><p>Over the next few days, the private messages were volleyed back and forth via Date Night as simple flirtations were exchanged. But after about a week, Quinn was frustrated.<p>

She wasn't making any real progress with Rachel. Their private messages traded over Date Night were numerous, but they lacked substance. Quinn knew that the flirtations would draw Rachel in, pique her interest, but when it came down to her heart, substance to the core was what made Rachel fall head over heels. Quinn's limited well of knowledge about the diva, at least what she could use in her messages without giving away her true identity, had quickly evaporated, and she needed to probe deeper to really get Rachel to fall. She hoped her next message would help her achieve exactly that. She started out cryptically, hoping Rachel would be intrigued and she could woo with a little more romance.

* * *

><p><strong>Date Night PM<br>Timestamp**: Oct 8; 7:51pm  
><strong>To<strong>: RasBerry419**  
>From<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>Subject<strong>: email

Hey RasBerry,

Would you mind sharing your email?

TFW

* * *

><p>Rachel was still staring at the message the unknown boy had sent. She had enjoyed their mild flirtations of the past week; it helped her to relax get her mind off of Finn and the real world of upcoming auditions as well as ten performances per week. Hell, the Date Night private messages weren't made for serious discussions in the first place, only allowing 200 words per message. They encouraged trifling and pithy comments about nothing in particular, instead of the long-winded, meaningful rants she so was fond of. And that's exactly what exchanging emails would require. It would force their flirtatious comments to transform into something else entirely, into a more serious realm, and Rachel wasn't sure she was prepared for that.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Date Night PM<br>Timestamp**: Oct 8; 7:54pm  
><strong>To<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>From<strong>: RasBerry419**  
>Subject<strong>: Re: email

Why?

* * *

><p>Quinn was surprised when the reply was almost immediate, seeing as Rachel should be preparing for her 8pm show. She focused on Rachel's concise statement and knew she had to tread lightly, say exactly the right words.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Date Night PM<br>Timestamp**: Oct 8; 7:56pm  
><strong>To<strong>: RasBerry419**  
>From<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>Subject<strong>: Re: email

Hey RasBerry,

Honestly? There's only one reason I even have to sign on to this site anymore, and that's to talk to you. I'm only interested in learning more about you, RB, and I thought we could cut out the middle man. But if you're unsure, we can continue our usual discourse here.

Just think about it,

TFW

* * *

><p>Rachel had waited impatiently for the reply to roll in as she flashed pensive glances toward the clock above the door. She was cutting it dangerously close to missing her call to places. Her worrying frown quickly transformed to a sly smile as she read the boy's response.<p>

Though she was quite tempted to steal Briana's laptop and quickly design a PowerPoint stating the pros and cons of such an email exchange, she cursed again when she glanced at the clock, knowing she had no time to overthink, in all reality, such a simple request.

Bouncing her right knee out of anxiety for not only the response her fast fingers were punching onto her screen, but for the reaming she was sure to get from her stage manager for her tardiness, Rachel hit send and let out the gush of air she didn't realize she was even holding. She threw her phone on the vanity and rushed from of the room.

* * *

><p><strong>Date Night PM<br>Timestamp**: Oct 8; 7:58pm  
><strong>To<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>From<strong>: RasBerry419**  
>Subject<strong>: Re: email

Since you explained it in such a sensible fashion, who am I to argue.

rasberry419[at]gmail[dot]com

So original, right?

Talk soon,

RB

* * *

><p>Quinn leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms into the hair and cracking her knuckles out of satisfaction. It was time for part two of her plan to commence.<p>

* * *

><p>Throughout the rest week, Rachel and Quinn exchanged emails. They started out much like their Date Night private messages, short, sweet and to the point, but they soon transformed into in depth diatribes of their everyday lives. Quinn would often find herself smiling when she opened up an excruciatingly long email from Rachel, as it so reminded her of the numerous times the diva had blithered on for minutes on one tangent or another in McKinley's choir room. But just as soon as such a near happy memory found its way into her brain, Quinn would shake her head and scowl. She wasn't supposed to be enjoying hearing about Rachel's day. This was all supposed to be about revenge, about breaking Rachel's heart the same way she had broken Quinn's when she referred to her daughter in such a vicious manner.<p>

They had undertaken numerous topics in their emails, and had even begun to divulge minor personal details. Quinn had continued to stick with what she knew in the creation of the fake suitor and offered details on her writing courses. Rachel in turn, upon realizing her actual name would display as the sender of the emails to the unknown boy, and although not quite yet famous, a quick search of her name online would reveal plenty of information, had admitted to being a triple threat of the stage: singer, dancer and actress. Quinn had laughed aloud at that statement, remembering the 16-year-old Rachel Berry, who was never one to be shy about her talents.

Rachel wrote about growing up with two dads in a small, Midwest town, practicing both Judaism and Christianity, and Quinn's fictional alter ego admitted to also growing up the Midwest. They shared laughs over the relief they both felt when they had moved away from the places with enforced 11pm curfews and had begun to establish themselves in the city that never sleeps.

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: TheFauxWriter **  
>to<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>date<strong>: Oct 13, 2016 at 2:16 PM**  
>subject<strong>: lines

Hey Rach,

This email nearly started off with me having to tell you to turn into the 5 o'clock news so you could see a new picture of my handsome face – a mug shot for nearly starting a bus brawl.

Now, before you jump to any conclusions, let me explain.

I had just finished up my last class of the day and made me way to my usual bus stop. As everyone was waiting around, a simple and civil line had begun to form of passengers. The bus was only one stoplight away when the light pushing began and random people who had just been hanging in the near proximity of the bus bay began to jockey and force their way into the line. Soon, the orderly line more resembled a mosh pit when the bus actually pulled up to the stop and opened its doors.

That's when the woman in front of me got slammed into the side the dirty bus by some asshat in a suit. It took all my strength not to turn and punch the guy right then and there.

When did we forget the basics we all learned in kindergarten...

* * *

><p>Quinn wasn't lying when she sent the email. She had nearly bitch slapped the man in his designer 3-piece suit – why the hell was he taking the bus in the first place? – when he had pushed her aside, causing the entire left half of her <em>white<em> jacket to slide against the bus's filthy metal. And what did the man's actions achieve? Quinn ended up standing directly next to him on the packed bus, and every time the driver slammed stop – he was particularly rough on the breaks – Quinn would smash into the man's tailored suit, attempting to share some of the bus's grime.

Quinn was actually panting when she had finally hit send on that email. She had been so angry, and it actually felt good let the frustration out, to talk to someone for once about the rage she felt, but she ignored that feeling, pushing it aside.

So sometimes a rant of frustration was shared between the two, but other times it was a rant of substance.

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>to<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>date<strong>: Oct 15, 2016 at 11:44 PM**  
>subject<strong>: re-dos

Hey there,

Today was a long, long day. I royally fucked up at our matinee. One of the supporting leads is out this week for a family emergency and then her understudy had to go and fracture her foot stepping out of a taxi. I still don't understand how the hell it happened.

So, that meant I was scheduled to step up. Yay, right?

Everything was going smoothly until the second act when I just froze and my head went blank during the HUGE group dance number. Luckily, I was at least partnered with another one of the leads during that portion of the dance, and he quickly stepped up when he saw the look of fear flash across my face when my back was to the audience during a spin.

I'm sure no one in the audience realized I was behind beat and having to be dragged along, but I was mortified. You have to understand that I'm never unprepared and it took all my strength the remainder of the show to keep my tears at bay.

Thus, I had to spend what was supposed to be my break before the evening performance going over the choreography again. And again. And again. I wish I had been able to go back in time and stop the moment from happening in the first place. At least the second show went more smoothly, and I know I'll never make those same mistakes again. Ever.

But this, of course, lead me to think about the grander schemes of life and how we're often searching for a re-do or reset button, and how much I've wanted to reset what happened in my life two weeks ago.

I know I've written briefly about my high school days and Glee Club, but I've neglected to go into much detail and that's because those years were filled with moments I often wish I could re-do.

For instance, when I received my first slushy facial. What's that? you're probably asking. Well, some sadistic individual (probably the cheerleading coach, now that I actually think about it...but that's a story for another day) thought it would be a grand idea to give open access to a slushy machine throughout the school day. I'm sure at one point in time they figured students could enjoy a drink in between classes, at lunch or after school. But others repurposed the refreshment as the ultimate punishment, the swirly of the next generation.

When you're hit in the face with a 32 oz. Big Quench, nothing but frozen sugar and ice, the initial shock, because you never know a slushy is coming, literally takes your breath away and you're drowning on land for a few short, agonizing seconds. Then, the humiliation takes over, and you're almost grateful as the flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks, which sometimes is enough to keep your teeth from shattering. But then, the syrupy sweetness gets into your eyes and burns like a son-of-a-bitch, before dying your skin and clothes.

So, when I received my first slushy facial, no doubt ordered by some cheerleader at the top of the high school food chain, I was unprepared and forced to wear my gym uniform for the remainder of the day, and I bet you can imagine what other rumors and "nicknames" that had let to.

Following that incident, when I arrived to school each morning, my backpack wasn't just filled with my books and homework, but also changes of clothes. I left extras in both my lockers (school & gym), because sometimes, one facial a day wasn't enough for my tormentors. Eventually the lunch ladies became some of my closest allies, taking pity on me and washing my clothes, along with plenty of stain remover, with their cooking rags and aprons so I didn't have to return home with yet another ruined outfit.

And that brings me to my next point on re-dos. Sometimes I wish I could re-do my whole high school career. I let people walk all over me back then. My so-called friends were only at my side when it was convenient for them. The only reason I wouldn't want to re-do it all again was that all those horrible experiences made me the person I am today.

I'm no longer anyone's doormat, nor do I surround myself with people who don't care for me unconditionally or only on their terms.

You're probably wondering where all this is coming from? It just can't be from a momentary lapse of all thought on stage, right?

I actually had an unannounced visit from a high school...acquaintance last week. The bitch that more than likely ordered many of the drinks to be thrown in my face, the girl who cut me down every chance she got. She showed up in my dressing room, _my personal space_, and immediately took control. I just stood there, cowering, and I was suddenly the 16-year-old Rachel again, being pushed around and bullied. I was actually forced into meeting her for coffee later, and things got heated. I said a couple of thoughts that should have never left my mouth – she brings out the worst in me. I think maybe that's the part I wish I could re-do most...

* * *

><p>Quinn woke up later on Sunday then she would have liked. She had assignments to look over for her classes the next day and a number of errands to run, but after receiving Rachel's latest email the night before, she had tossed in turned in bed for hours, Rachel's words echoing in her mind.<p>

The email had definitely been the most revealing and personal yet exchanged, allowing Quinn to guess that Rachel was getting comfortable and indeed developing feelings beyond meaningless flirtations for the fictional FauxWriter.

And yet, there was a twinge of guilt in the pit of her stomach. She had slept in and her stomach was used to having its morning fix hours ago. That twinge was definitely a hunger pang. Quinn shook off the feeling and walked to the kitchen to scrounge up some breakfast. Normally she would make herself a bit of a spread on Sunday – eggs, toast, bacon, sometimes even potatoes if the mood struck – but she was already running behind schedule and would have to settle for a bowl of cereal.

Sitting at her desk, Quinn munched on her Cheerios as she ran through her morning routine, checking her news feed and both her personal and school email accounts. She was midway through rereading the assignment instructions for a paper due in class tomorrow when an unfamiliar 'PING' emanated from the computer's speakers.

Quinn cocked her head in confusion, her right hand rising in surrender, not knowing what she had done wrong to cause her computer to issue such a sound, and she willed it not to flash the blue screen of death. She held her breath and waited.

With her computer seemingly humming normally, and no reoccurrence of the noise, Quinn relaxed her tense shoulders and continued her review of the assignment. Thirty seconds later, the 'PING' sounded alarm again.

Quinn set aside her bowl containing the last dregs of milk. There had to be a simple explanation. She started closing and minimizing open windows, thinking that perhaps a stupid pop up add was the cause of the noise. Quinn navigated to the open window housing the FauxWriter's email account when she noticed an unfamiliar dialogue box in the lower, right-hand corner, discovering the source of the noise.

Normally after she checked the FauxWriter's email account, Quinn would log out. But after Rachel's last letter, Quinn had left the page open in contemplation, and when she awoke her computer from its slumber a mere fifteen minutes ago, she also had unknowingly been a sitting duck. Rachel had started a gchat.

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel<strong>

hey

you there?

* * *

><p>Quinn stared catatonically at the screen, mouth open in shock. She was unprepared for a real-time assault.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>me<strong>

Oh.

Hey.

* * *

><p><em>Smooth, Fabray, real smooth<em>.

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel<strong>

i realize that this is not our usual forum for  
>communication, but i couldn't stop myself<br>from saying hello

**me**  
>Hello, back.<p>

**Rachel**

how's your morning going?

**me**

Not too bad. I actually just woke up.

**Rachel**

lucky! i wish i had the luxury to sleep in.  
>but i had to get up and get my work out<br>in before getting ready for today's shows.

**me**  
>The sleeping in was actually by accident.<br>I'm already running behind for today's  
>schedule.<p>

**Rachel**

oh

well don't let me keep you

**me**  
>No, I didn't mean it like that.<p>

This is actually kind of nice. It's almost  
>like we're talking in person, Rach. : )<p>

There wasn't a response for a couple of minutes, and Quinn grew slightly concerned.

**Rachel**

i have a question

**me**  
>Ok. Shoot.<p>

**Rachel**

What's your name?

* * *

><p>Quinn's face scrunched up and she didn't immediately reply. <em>What the hell is she talking about?<em>

* * *

><p><strong>me<strong>  
>What do you mean?<p>

**Rachel**

I thought that was a pretty straightforward

question... you know my name. rachel berry.

now, what's yours?

**me**  
>Oh. Duh.<p>

* * *

><p>Quinn mentally started kicking herself. How stupid could she be to forget such an essential part of a fake identity? She immediately started racking her brain for any ideas.<p>

Her first instinct was to reply with her old boyfriend's actual name, and then at least the name would match the face. However, a moment of doubt held her back, and she quickly googled 'Luke Crosby'. It didn't take her long to track down the boy's true social network profile that actually included some of the same pictures she had posted on the fake Date Night profile. Quinn was sure Rachel would google the name she provided as soon as she replied, and couldn't risk her finding out the boy now resided in Indianapolis, not Manhattan.

Quinn glanced around her desk, impatiently waiting for inspiration to strike. Her eyes fell to her cereal bowl.

_Cheerios. Ohs. Oh-riels. Oh-reos. Oh, shit_.

Her inner dialogue was no help.

_Seriously, Fabray. Think on your damn feet!_

Her eyes finally landed on a stack of her school papers and inspiration struck. Jack Foss. Two of her professors' names. Quinn immediately replied, hoping that her delay wasn't sending warning bells and flags off in Rachel's head.

* * *

><p><strong>me<strong>

Jack Foss.

**Rachel**

well it's nice to officially meet you, jack

**me**  
>You, too, Rachel.<p>

**Rachel**

umm...

**me**

Yes?

**Rachel**

i actually have one more question...

**me**

Go for it.

**Rachel**

well, tomorrow we're dark, no shows, and i was  
>hoping you'd like to have dinner with me?<p>

* * *

><p>Quinn wondered how she so quickly had lost control of her own game.<p>

* * *

><p>Throughout Monday's classes, Quinn struggled to keep focus, but all she could think about was how 'Jack Foss' was supposed to meeting Rachel for dinner at seven that evening. Luckily, Rachel had suggested eats at a casual café in which Quinn was familiar.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>to<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>date<strong>: Oct 17, 2016 at 1:01 PM**  
>subject<strong>: dinner

Hi Jack,

I hope you don't mind, but I made us a reservation at Benson Café (do you know it?, quite casual, but delicious) for 7pm this evening. I've made sure one of the tables next the window will be free, so it'll be easy for us to find each other. I'm excited!

Can't wait to see you!

Rachel

* * *

><p>At 4pm, Quinn entered the café and made her way to the back of the restaurant. She chose a table with a clear view of the door, and then set up shop. Not only did she have assignments to complete for class, but she still had yet to develop a plan on how she was going to handle Rachel come dinner time.<p>

Quinn's feelings of revenge towards Rachel had begun to wane once they had actually started emailing back and forth. She had tried to ignore the emotions that were soon outnumbering her rage, but she couldn't keep the feelings at bay anymore. If Quinn were honest with herself, she would admit how much she actually looked forward to the daily emails Rachel sent. She was surprised by how much she had actually learned about the diva is two short weeks, but was maybe even more surprised by how much knowledge she had already known. Quinn supposed she had actually paid a bit more attention to Rachel and her rants in high school than she wanted to admit.

Sick of doing her school work, Quinn opened up the FauxWriter's email account and reread Rachel's re-do email for the umpteenth time. She let out a sigh, yet again feeling guilty for the way she had treated Rachel, and so many others, throughout high school. For the greater part of four years, she was Queen Bee, the Head Bitch in Charge, and she reveled in every moment. But Quinn also knew what it was like to be cut down, too, and she herself had not even been spared a dreaded slushy facial – Azimio had paid for that poor choice in judgment, though, dearly. When her pregnancy had been revealed, Quinn was taunted, called names and ostracized. For the few people who attempted to reach out to her, Rachel included, she had immediately pushed away, defense mechanisms and walls reinforced ten-fold.

When she looked back on it now, her current rage towards Rachel was just as misguided as the many times in high school, and probably yet another attempt at keeping her defenses in place. And now Quinn didn't know what do. 22-year-old Rachel was a lot different from 16-, 17- and 18-year-old Rachel. Quinn had learned that through their emails. Rachel had changed, but Quinn's actions showed she herself hadn't – she was the same diabolical bitch from high school.

Voices from the sidewalk and sounds of cars on the street filtered in as the café's door opened, breaking through Quinn's contemplations. She glanced at the time displayed on her phone: 6:45pm. Quinn's mouth opened in shock, though not because Rachel Berry was early for her date, but rather how stunning she looked. 22-year-old Rachel was hot. Quinn ducked her head behind her laptop's screen, hiding not only her face, but also her growing blush, from Rachel's surveying eyes.

* * *

><p>Rachel couldn't stop her right knee from bouncing in nervousness. In between her people watching and menu perusing, she continued to sneak glances at her phone. 7:18pm. It didn't matter how many excuses she cooked up in her mind – Jack was late.<p>

She had just glanced back down to the menu to continue narrowing down her entrée options when the sounds of a chair scraping against tile caught her attention. Rachel looked up excitedly, hoping it was Jack pulling out his chair from the table. Instead, movement in the back corner of the restaurant caught her attention. Rachel sat stunned as she watched Quinn Fabray pack up her belongings – it appeared she had papers, books and her laptop scattered about the table – finding it odd that theirs paths would cross yet again in such a short span of time after having not seen one another in nearly five years. As Quinn approached the door to exit, coffee cup in hand, Rachel called out to her, "Quinn?" but was merely greeted by the cold breeze being sucked into the café as the door slammed closed.

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: TheFauxWriter  
><strong>to<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>date<strong>: Oct 17, 2016 at 10:46 PM**  
>subject<strong>: sorry

Hi Rachel,

I'm really sorry I missed our dinner date tonight. I had a family emergency (don't worry, everything's okay now), and it didn't even cross my mind to send you an email or even call the restaurant till now.

Jack

* * *

><p>Quinn sent the message and immediately regretted her choice. There was no truth, no honesty behind that message. The entire time she had been writing under the screen name of FauxWriter, she had never once lied to Rachel. Besides changing the few obvious pronouns, when it came down to it, the email exchanges were between Rachel and Quinn.<p>

She tried again.

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: TheFauxWriter  
><strong>to<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>date<strong>: Oct 17, 2016 at 10:58 PM**  
>subject<strong>: sorry, again

Hi Rachel,

I'm really sorry that I missed our dinner date tonight and equally sorry that I lied to you in the process. There was no family emergency.

Simply, I got cold feet. I saw you sitting there at the table and I didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say.

We spoke of re-dos just a couple of days ago, and though I surely don't deserve one, I'm hoping I can still cash mine in.

I hope you'll forgive me, but I'll understand if you don't.

Jack

ps. You looked really beautiful tonight.

* * *

><p>Quinn hit send, meaning every world of her email, not only as the fictional boy, but also as herself.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note II<strong>: The line "a child raising a child" is a lyric from the musical _Next to Normal_. An awesome show that I'd definitely recommend (with kleenex in tow). NY152 is the screen name of Joe Fox in _You've Got Mail_, which this story takes some inspiration from (along with _The Shop Around the Corner _and _The Good Old Summertime_), among others.


	3. Chapter 3 Redo, Again

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note I**: Third chapter for Date Night. Hope you enjoy it. As always, please review. I welcome all comments and complaints.

**Chapter 3 – Re-do, Again **

* * *

><p>"Miss Fabray. I'm not sure how you managed to get down here again," Quinn turned and jingled her press credentials in front of Michael's face, but if she was being honest, she thought all security really saw was her shimmy and shake before letting her waltz right in, "but Ms. Berry left me with a strict policy on who was welcome, and you are not. Once again, I'm going to ask you to leave before I alert security."<p>

"Michael, Michael," Quinn cooed as she arched her eyebrow and plastered her sincerest smile on her lips, "your security team is actually who gave me access just a few minutes ago. And I'm not here to cause trouble, I just stopped to get Rachel's opinion on the proof of her profile I wrote. She asked to see it." Quinn added a few innocent blinks for effect, hoping it would improve the truthfulness of her lie.

Michael brought his right hand to his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose is frustration. He was sick of being Rachel Berry's bitch, treated more like a personal assistant than as one of the show's assistant stage managers. He wished he could go back in time the last few months to where he was simply happy collecting and organizing the props for the performances, before he had to go and befriend Finn Hudson, and before Finn Hudson had decided to "befriend" the chorus girl, Krystal with a 'K'. When Ms. Berry had found out that Michael had been helping to keep Finn's trysts secret, acting as the lookout for the cheater... Well he really didn't want to remember that moment. The screeching, the screaming, the rage. He shuddered at the thought. From that point on, Ms. Berry's list of demands, including she only be referred to as such, continued to grow. How he wished he could quit, but at the time it wasn't something Michael could afford to do. He would continue to grin and bear it and follow each one of Ms. Berry's wishes to a 'T', which included his duty to, as Ms. Berry had so nicely informed him, "Keep Quinn Fabray the fuck away."

"After the verbal abuse I suffered the other night after I let you come down here, I highly doubt Ms. Berry asked to see anything to do with you again."

With surprising force for such a small man, Michael latched on to Quinn's forearm and dragged her towards the exit.

"Get your fucking paws off me, hobbit!" Quinn growled as she fought his grip and dug her heels into the ground.

"Let go of her! What's going on?"

Both Michael and Quinn froze on the spot – Michael was sure Rachel was going to attack him right then and there for not properly following through on her orders. When they finally turned, a smile of relief transformed both their faces.

"Molly, hey! I'm Rachel's friend, Quinn, from the other week," she shouted down the hallway, "I've just stopped by to give Rachel the article I wrote, but Michael," she shot him her patented glare, "won't allow me to give it to her."

"Michael, I've got this," Molly explained as she stepped towards the pair.

"But Ms. Berry insisted that I-"

"I'll personally explain it to Rachel. Quinn? This way."

Feeling childish and triumphant, Quinn turned and stuck her tongue out at Michael's retreating form before striding after Molly.

Quinn had been so glad the cast mate to come to her aid was indeed Molly, rather than Briana. The protectiveness of the latter rivaled that of an angry mother bear. And though Quinn could hold her own, she just didn't have the fight in her at the moment. However, as Molly slammed the dressing room door and Quinn was able to examine the emotions on her face, she wished maybe she had just been escorted out of the theatre.

Molly's arm were crossed defensively in front of her chest. "Explain yourself."

Quinn forced a smile, "I already said I came to drop off the article for-"

"That's what you're saying now and that's what your excuse was last week, too, the interview. But that was also before Rachel told us about more about you...and high school," Molly just shook her head in disgust. "Article my ass. What are you really doing here?"

Quinn titled her head, thinking briefly on how she should proceed. Lately, honesty seemed to be working out best for her, so she decided to take that approach once again.

"That bad, huh?"

"Wait–What?"

"The stories Berry told you. I see the look on your face. I know what you must think of me."

"Yeah, and you're just lucky I'm the one with the earlier call time instead of Briana. Had she found you, I'm pretty sure she'd be kicking your ass right about now."

"I don't doubt that," Quinn chuckled, and this response, Quinn could tell, was not what Molly had expected, so Quinn continued. "I won't deny how horrible of a person I was in high school. I had my fair share of...issues. But I'm trying to make up for that now. See for yourself." Quinn pulled a manila folder out of her bag and Molly began to scan the article.

After Molly had finished reading, she looked up at Quinn through questioning eyes. "You actually wrote this?" Quinn nodded in acknowledgement. "And you actually believe everything you wrote, too?" Quinn just smiled.

Molly continued to stare at the blonde, pondering the situation, causing Quinn to add, "I'm trying here, you know. I'm trying to be a better person – I mean I am already a better, a different person than I was back then. I grew up and I realized my mistakes. I know I can't take them back, I can't rewrite history, but I'm not that person anymore." Quinn gestured towards the Glee Club picture adhered to Rachel's vanity mirror.

"That's really lovely, but I'm not the one that needs to hear all this. I think you need to tell those words to Rachel."

Quinn was growing frustrated. "Great. And again, that's why I'm here. To show her the article so she can read it for herself. When's her call time?"

"Oh."

_That doesn't sound positive_, Quinn thought. "Oh, what?"

"Rachel's not coming in tonight. First time she's called in sick, actually."

"And you're just choosing now to tell me this? What a waste-"

"No, you don't get to take an attitude with me. I was just trying to protect my friend, to figure out if you had other motives."

"Sorry," Quinn mumbled, "I just really wanted to see her tonight." She lowered her head in defeat and headed towards the door.

Quinn's mind had only been filled with thoughts of Rachel all day, really since the previous night when she had left her sitting alone in the café. She hadn't been able to forget the flush of warmth that had ignited deep within her as she watched Rachel enter the restaurant. She tried to push the memory away, bury it somewhere deep in her mind, but it had continued to float to the surface each time Quinn refreshed the FauxWriter's email account, desperately waiting for a reply to "Jack's" apology. Quinn tried to write the feeling off as guilt. Guilt for standing Rachel up, walking out of the café without any explanation, hatching what now seemed like such a childish attempt at revenge and for the way she treated the diva in the past.

Molly watched as Quinn walked, or what could be described as sulked, out the door. The blonde's behavior was unexpected, especially after their first encounter and Rachel's subsequent stories. Molly weighed her options, knowing that she'd have to eventually answer to Rachel, before sticking her head out the doorway.

"I suppose I can give you her address."

* * *

><p>Quinn's adrenaline urged her up the steps to Rachel's building two at a time. Her index finger hovered over the call button for apartment 503 as her breathing quickened, remembering words Rachel had wrote in an email only three days prior. This was a mistake. Here she was showing up unannounced and ready to invade Rachel's space yet again. Why had she ever thought this was a smart decision? But before her doubt could take hold, she shook off her nerves, she was Quinn Fabray after all, and finally depressed the call button.<p>

As she waited for a response, Quinn bit her bottom lip and nervously rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. After approximately thirty seconds without an answer, Quinn's inner child escaped and she started to repeatedly press the button.

Finally, an irritated voice croaked out from the intercom, "What?"

"Um, hi, Rachel."

There was a long pause and Quinn was poised to press the call button once more before she heard the response.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if I could come up?"

Upstairs in her apartment, Rachel's eye twitched.

"Most certainly not. Not now or ever. I'm ill and I can't possibly afford to miss another day of performances. The best remedy for someone in current condition is adequate hydration and rest..."

Quinn leaned back from the landing and surveyed her options of how she could get to Rachel if she refused to let her in. The building did have fire escapes, so she tried to discern what side of the building Rachel's rant was emanating from. Deciding that breaking and entering was not a viable option, on a whim, Quinn decided to check to see if the front door was even locked.

"Well, damn," Quinn uttered when the building's front door opened without a fight. As Rachel's rant continued filtering out through the speaker, "...and furthermore, how dare you..." Quinn laughed, shook her head in amusement and made her way to the elevator.

Quinn had been on the elevator for what seemed like well over a minute, though it was barely twenty seconds, and she was sure that the elevator had actually stopped moving. None of floor lights lit up and there was no ding to indicate her location either. As she was reaching in her bag to retrieve her cell phone to call for help, the doors surprisingly opened to the fifth floor.

It didn't take long for Quinn to detect which hallway she should choose, left or right, because Rachel's voice was loud and clear, guiding her path to the apartment door. "...you can't just do this to people, Quinn. You can't just show up out of nowhere and try and act like the past never happened. You understand that, right?"

Rachel waited for an answer. "For once that wasn't a rhetorical question...Quinn?...are you even still out there?"

"So was that a yes or a no for coming up?" Quinn answered from the other side of the apartment's door. She suppressed a laugh as she heard a strangled shriek followed by sounds of what she assumed was Rachel stumbling backwards away from the door.

"C'mon, Berry. Open up. I even brought gifts."

That last comment seemed to do the trick as Quinn heard the locks click before the door was opened.

A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she took in a flustered Rachel. _She's actually kind of cute with her brow scrunched like that_. Quinn face fell as she glanced around her, wondering whose disembodied thought had just entered her mind, because surely she could not be the one thinking Rachel Berry was cute.

Rachel sat on a couch, clutching a wastebasket to her chest as if it were a shield, and stared at Quinn's features, watching with interest as varying emotions swept over the surface.

"Are you going to come in or not?" Rachel asked with eyebrows raised.

Quinn shook her head to disrupt her internal debate and slowly entered the apartment. Noticing the wastebasket melded to Rachel's chest, she questioned, "Should I be keeping my distance."

"What are you-" Rachel looked down as Quinn gestured and realized she was clutching the plastic as if her life depended on it. "Oh, no. Just a precaution. I haven't been sick since this morning. Sorry," she said and set the receptacle aside. "What are you doing here, Quinn?"

Leaning up against the entryway's wall, Quinn sent Rachel a puzzled expression from across the room. Surely Molly would have informed Rachel that Quinn was on her way.

"I dropped by the theatre and-"

"Michael let you in?"

"No, security let me in and then Michael tried to stop me. But then Molly-"

"I'm going to kill her."

"Don't blame her-"

"Don't tell me what to do, Quinn." Rachel settled her glare on the former head cheerleader as best she could. Quinn attempted to hold the gaze, but the intensity radiating out from the brown eyes across the room was too much, and finally she looked away as the silence grew.

"You said you brought gifts?" Rachel attempted to change the subject and break up the tension.

Quinn smiled. Of course Rachel wouldn't have forgotten that minor detail. "Yes." She set the paper bag down in front of Rachel on the coffee table. Rachel looked up expectantly, so Quinn continued.

"Water," she explained as she pulled two bottles from the bag. "You're sick so you should hydrate, but I think you already know this tip since you announced it via intercom to all of New York." Rachel's face was amused. "And soup from...Benson Café." Quinn pulled out a steaming container from the bag. "Because that's what I like when I'm sick," Quinn declared as she pushed the bag's contents across the table.

Rachel couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Thank you. This was very thoughtful."

"Welcome," Quinn nodded as she reclaimed her position against the wall.

"You know, I saw you there yesterday," Rachel nodded towards the soup.

"What?" Quinn answered, though she knew perfectly well what Rachel meant.

"I saw you at the Benson. You seemed to be in a hurry, though, ignoring me when I-"

"Oh, yeah. I was studying and then was late...for a meeting. Must've had my head phones in." She hoped the anxiety she felt hadn't crept into her reply.

Silence fell over the two girls once again, and Rachel stared at the blonde across the room. Why was she just standing there? This was not normal Quinn Fabray behavior.

"So...is this all?" Rachel motioned to the coffee table, "You just stopped by to drop this off...or?"

"Right. Umm..." Quinn rummaged in her bag and produced the manila folder. As she extended her hand, she added, "Here's the article I wrote. I wanted you to look over it before I sent it in."

"Ok. Well, I was actually in the middle of a nap before you dropped by, and I'd like to get back to that, so I'll look over it later."

"Oh. I guess that's fine." Rachel was confused by Quinn's tone that almost sounded...upset.

"What's wrong? You used to get straight A's in English, right? I'm sure whatever you managed to come up with is perfectly acceptable. Why do you care what I think anyway, Quinn?" Rachel pushed.

Quinn opened her mouth to answer, but promptly shut it. She didn't know why she cared so much about Rachel's opinion. She had written plenty of other articles, reviews and profiles and had never once worried about anyone's opinion other than her editor's. But for some strange reason, Quinn Fabray was unsure of herself, unnerved by Rachel Berry, and was seeking the diva's approval, acceptance and redemption for her past sins.

"I don't know," Quinn lied, "I guess it doesn't. If you do decide to read it and want anything changed, my cell's written at the top." She made her way back towards the exit.

Rachel let out a huff in frustration. It was obvious that Quinn had wanted to say more, to explain herself, but instead she decided to stay closed off. At least that behavior was something Rachel could associate with Quinn acting normal.

Quinn's hand was in the process of turning the doorknob.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?" she answered, still facing forward.

"Thanks."

Quinn let out a curt nod before closing the door.

* * *

><p>Rachel waited until she heard Quinn's retreating footsteps before greedily eyeing the soup. As soon as Quinn had removed the container from the brown bag, Rachel's stomach had rumbled. She hadn't eaten since the night before. After she was stood up on her date, she made the mistake of eating leftover Thai from cartons pushed to the back of her fridge. She had suffered those consequences until early this morning when her stomach had decided there were no more contents left to purge.<p>

Pulling back the plastic cover, Rachel smiled as she inhaled the steamy broth laced with the smells of roasted vegetables and cumin. As she walked to the kitchen to grab a spoon, she not only lectured her stomach that this particular soup was too precious to waste, but she also began to wonder why Quinn had picked up soup in the first place and how she knew to get her favorite soup. Must have been a lucky guess, Rachel assumed as she took her first bite.

She hummed in enjoyment as the broth warmed her mouth and kick started her taste buds. She curled back up on the couch, tucking her feet underneath her and pulling a blanket around her shoulders. Devouring her soup, Rachel let her mind travel to thoughts of Quinn and how their interaction today had been so different from their last face to face meeting and how she was baffled by Quinn's behavior. Never before had Rachel witnessed Quinn being so tentative in her actions. Quinn could be soft-spoken, but you were always aware of her presence and wishes, but something today something was definitely off balance. Her demeanor was very much timid and oddly cautious. Quinn Fabray was not acting like herself and that alone unnerved Rachel.

Scraping the carton of soup with her spoon, Rachel was determined to get every last bite of its lentil goodness. When she was certain that the only other option to taste the last remnants of the meal would be to lick the insides of the cup, Rachel resigned to the fact that the soup was finally gone. She set the container aside before directing her attention to the manila folder.

* * *

><p>After her fight with Rachel in the coffee shop, Quinn had begun to plot her ridiculous revenge and had nearly forgotten about the article she was assigned to write, the whole reason she had attempted to reconnect with Rachel in the first place. Then, she received a very angry email from her managing editor demanding a copy in next three days before the month-long profiling series would end. Thus, Quinn kicked it into high gear, but the writing wasn't effortless like it normally was and her thoughts wouldn't flow. Quinn tried to rationalize her creative slump when she finally had to admit that after all the information they had exchange via email, Rachel unknowingly, that writing from her head wasn't going to cut it anymore. She needed to write from her heart. As soon as that epiphany was realized, Quinn couldn't get the words to the page fast enough. Rachel, writing to "Jack", had said Quinn brought out the worst in her. Now, Quinn was just trying to prove that she could actually bring out the best.<p>

* * *

><p>2016 Rising Star Series: Rachel Berry<p>

Oct 22 | _By Quinn Fabray_

According to her fathers, Rachel Berry has been a diva since her first starring role, her 36-hour labor. They swear there was a musicality to her first breaths of life, that she danced before she could walk and was singing before she could talk. Rachel Berry was born to perform.

She not only credits her current success to her parents' love and support, but Berry also credits the William McKinley High School student body. Without them she never would have been slushied with an icee drink and forced to perfect the art of a costume quick-change between class periods. Her fellow peers' negative comments and criticisms also gave Berry more than enough opportunities to practice her newly acquired acting abilities. Berry found solace at New York University. This past May, Berry graduated with honors from the Tisch School of Arts where she received numerous accolades and praise for her performances and showcases.

Currently, Berry can be seen gracing the stage at the Al Hirschfeld Theatre in _Hello, Again_, a coming-of-age story set in post-WWII New England. She commands the audience's attention as Betty Sue, a recently engaged and pregnant woman waiting for her soldier to come home. She moves with grace across the stage and her vocal range is astonishing. Even though she has only been with the company for a short period of time, her on-stage chemistry with the rest of her cast is unusually rare and touching. It seems like they have been acting together for years.

As her fathers predicted, the small, Midwest town Berry grew up in was not able to contain her talent or aspirations. One has to question if Berry will soon outgrow New York, too. But one thing is for certain: when the stars all go out, Rachel Berry's will still be burning bright.

_Note to managing editor:  
>Word count: 301300. Changes? call 555-689-5605_.

* * *

><p>Quinn rolled over to the sounds of her phone vibrating across her bedside table. Wednesday was her one class-free day, and she didn't appreciate the rude interruption at barely 6am in the morning<p>

**can you meet me at 10? coffee shop across from the theatre? r**

She didn't even try to suppress the smile as she replied.

**Sure. See you then. Q**

* * *

><p>The bell above the shop's door jingled, halting Quinn's motions to nervously reorganize the items on table top for the fourth time. As Rachel entered the shop, Quinn had to yet again try and hide the blush and the twinge of warmth threatening to spread throughout her body at the sight of the brown-eyed girl.<p>

Rachel glanced around the shop and went to give Quinn a small wave as she headed towards the counter to order her drink. However, the blonde motioned for her to come and join her, indicating to the two drinks present on the table.

"Lemon ginger tea," Quinn pointed to the mug sitting in front of Rachel as the diva settled into her seat. "It always helps to settle my stomach...and nerves." Though that last bit was barely and audible whisper, Rachel let out a sly smile at the sentiment as she too was feeling anxious as she tried to shake memories of déjà vu.

"Thanks for the tea, Quinn. It's actually...perfect. You're two for two, now."

Quinn finally met Rachel's eyes with a questioning glance.

"First the soup and now the tea," Rachel explained.

"Your favorite?" Quinn asked with a smile, even though she already knew the answer. Rachel had told "Jack" in detail about her favorite dishes at Benson Café before they had even arranged their first date.

Rachel nodded her head in agreement as she sipped from her mug before continuing. "So, that article you wrote..." Quinn looked up from her own mug when she heard Rachel's voice crack. Her stomach dropped to the floor when she saw the glassiness of Rachel's eyes. This was not the reaction she had expected.

"Oh my god, Rachel. I'm so sorry. D-don't cry. My deadline's not until three today. I can make changes."

"Quinn, no. Don't be silly! I loved the article and wouldn't want you to change a thing. It was beautiful."

Though try as she might to repress her reaction to the compliment, Quinn's body betrayed her, and she couldn't prevent flush spreading across her cheeks. Rachel hadn't missed the addition of the red hue on the blonde's alabaster skin.

"Wow. Never thought I could check that off my bucket list, but here it is. Mark it."

Quinn looked at Rachel with an eyebrow arched.

"Dear Diary, today I, Rachel Berry, caused former head cheerleader Quinn Fabray to blush." The comment only caused Quinn's cheeks to further deepen in color, and thus Rachel added. "Twice."

Quinn was at a loss for words as she fought the alien effects of Rachel's joke, and refusing to admit how she was truly making her feel. Finally, Quinn was able to regain enough of her composure to squeak out, "I'm really glad you liked it."

They continued to sip their tea in silence for a bit before Rachel asked a pointed question.

"Why are you being so nice, Quinn?"

"What do you mean, Rachel? I'm always nice. I'm full of sunshine," Quinn deadpanned.

For the first time in days, Rachel let out a laugh that originated deep inside and all Quinn could think about was how much she loved that laugh, and even more, how much she enjoyed being the one to make Rachel laugh. Again, she blushed at the thought.

"The only time the Quinn Fabray I know has ever been nice is when she wants something."

Quinn sat in silence as Rachel's hypothesis was indeed correct.

"Oh, shit. Seriously, Quinn?" Rachel gaped at the blonde.

"It's not like that, Rachel. I-I just...I just want to be your friend."

Rachel let out another hearty laugh before noticing the expression on Quinn's face.

"Oh. OH! Oh, my god. You're actually serious." Rachel brought her hand to her mouth to hide not only her surprise, but also yet another laugh that was threatening to spill from her lips. "Just a second, Quinn. I need to mentally write in my diary again."

Quinn finally let a small smile at the comment and Rachel's laughter filled the small coffee shop.

"You have to understand why I feel like I'm the fucking twilight zone, right? That I'm getting punk'd."

"And you understand how hard it is for me to admit this?" Quinn asked in quite the serious tone, making Rachel take note.

"I'm just having a hard time processing all of this Quinn. Where this is all coming from."

"It's been a long time coming, I guess."

"Do you care to explain?"

"Well, you know how you still keep in touch with Brittany," Rachel nodded, "she told San how you were doing and then San told me when she found I moved to New York. And then that profile assignment fell in my lap, and you were the only person I wanted to interview." Quinn blushed a bit before continuing. "I know, try to contain you shock and amusement," Quinn commented when she saw the look on Rachel's face.

"And then I didn't have any way to get in contact with to tell you I was coming to the show, and even if I had called, I'm sure you would have immediately hung up."

Rachel considered this before agreeing. "Probably true."

"So then I ambushed you, and I'm really sorry for that, Rachel, honestly. You didn't deserve that."

"And you didn't deserve the horrible things I said to you, either."

"Well, some of it was actually true. The high school stuff," Quinn clarified.

"But why were you like that, Quinn? Why were you so mean?"

Quinn had given this question a lot of personal thought since "Jack" had received Rachel's email detailing her daily torment.

"I wrote it all down in the article. I meant every word I wrote, Rachel. I was just like everyone else. Jealous that you had your whole life figured out, that you knew what you wanted and you weren't going to settle for anything but the best. And there I was, willing to settle so easy. And I'm not proud of it now, of course, but I had my reputation. It was survival of the fittest, and I was just trying to keep my head above the water."

"Thanks for your honesty, Quinn. I know how hard it must be for you to admit that you've always wanted to be my friend." Rachel was beaming across the table from Quinn, attempting to lighten the serious tone of the conversation, and Quinn couldn't help but return the smile.

"So, you'll be my friend?" Quinn asked hopefully.

Rachel returned the question with one of her award-winning smiles. "Of course."

The smiles they exchanged were genuine, and they continued chatting for a few minutes more, both finishing up their drinks, before Rachel stood to leave.

"I've got to head out. Errands to run before the show tonight. Umm..." Quinn could tell that Rachel's eyes were getting glassy again. "I really glad you agreed to meet for coffee, Quinn. I can't say I expected all this to happen," she motioned between them with her hands, "but I'm really glad it did."

She reached for Quinn's hand and pulled the blonde into a hug. "We'll talk soon?"

Quinn could only nod as she was fighting back the lump in throat, threatening to cause her own eyes to begin to water. As she watched Rachel leave the coffee shop this time around, she was glad she didn't have to angrily pack her belongings, but instead she could revel in the warmth left on her skin from Rachel's touch. For the first time, Quinn didn't push away the warmth.

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Rachel Berry  
><strong>to<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>date<strong>: Oct 19, 2016 at 11:33 PM**  
>subject<strong>: hello, again

Hi Jack,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond to your message. I just had to sort through some personal feelings these past two days.

We did talk about re-dos, and earlier today I myself was given another chance to re-do, well, a lot and it means the world to me.

So who would I be to deny you the chance?

Talk soon,

Rachel

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note II<strong>: The last line of Quinn's profile is a slight variation on a portion of the chorus in Sarah McLachlan's "Answer".


	4. Chapter 4 Night Out

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note I**: Chapter 4. Sorry for the delay in posting. Real life got in the way this week. Hope the chapter is worth the wait.

**Chapter 4 – Night Out**

* * *

><p>For the past couple days, Quinn's head had been filled with the haze of her inner dialogue and debate as she finally refused to ignore the lingering heat left from Rachel's hug in the coffee shop.<p>

Quinn's feelings for women in general weren't new by any means, but were instead rather...frustrating. In high school, it was easy enough to keep her thoughts contained, repressed. She not only had the standards of her parents to fulfill, but also that of her role as head cheerleader. Her goal was simple: stay on top. At the time, she hadn't cared that her objective required lying, cheating and humiliation. Consequences could always be dealt with later, if at all.

For appearances, dating the captain of the football team made sense in the high school hierarchy of McKinley, and also never allowed anyone to question the lingering glances towards certain females, especially girls in short, argyle skirts, Quinn sometimes stole. No, of course Quinn Fabray was not checking that girl out; she was merely sizing her up for domination and a potential slushie facial.

Quinn's role in the celibacy club was initially a godsend, keeping her boyfriends from rounding the bases too quickly. But then Puck came along and she decided to screw up her life. Quinn required the liquid courage to even attempt the act, in a moment of weakness, she hoped that a quick fuck could save her from, what she considered at the time, sinful thoughts. Instead, her sin simply multiplied.

After the pregnancy, Quinn did her best to return to the simplicity of lying, refusing to acknowledge her true self and going with the flow of Lima's recognized norm – she envied Kurt with a passion. She worked her way back up the social ladder, claiming everything she could. She wanted the status, the boyfriend, the crown and sash, the top. She wanted it all so her life would be simple and mapped out, even if all of that wasn't what she needed.

Quinn satisfied her needs in college. She maintained her mainstream acceptable boyfriends for show, keeping them around for a couple months at a time before they could develop into anything too serious and unwanted. Some even proved to not be total wastes of her time and were genuinely friendly guys who were actually struggling with the same inner demons as herself. One boy in particular, Christopher, introduced her to slice of their college's social life she never knew existed.

Quinn explored the attachment-free gay underground of her liberal arts college. Here, star athletes and top students with their respective established longtime girlfriends and boyfriends could satisfy their desires and curiosities with members of the same sex, and much like Vegas, there was an unspoken code of honor – skeletons were to remain, literally, in the closet. During her senior year, an anonymous exposé of the underground ran in the college's paper for months – the paper's editor-in-chief didn't handle rejection well – and lives, including a certain professor's, were forever altered.

Luckily enough for Quinn, her secrets remained sealed and her parents finished paying off her undergraduate debt before she bid them farewell. Now, with graduate classes and her freelance work, Quinn's free time was usually booked and she no longer felt the pressure to maintain a false relationship. One night stands were easy enough to come by if she was feeling desperate. However, such encounters did not cure her loneliness, which brought Quinn back to Rachel.

Quinn had actively sought the diva out for the interview, but she had never imagined she would be overwhelmed by the emotions that rose up within her when she saw the support system and love the diva was now surrounded with, a support system that Quinn herself truly lacked. Sure, she had friends from her classes, but her lack of trust truly hindered her ability to let down her walls and allow anyone to really be her friend. This is why the possibility of a friendship with Rachel seemed so novel. Quinn could form a relationship with someone who already knew her at her worse, but who hopefully wouldn't hold the past over her head as she continued to grow.

All throughout Thursday and Friday, Quinn's thoughts returned to Rachel as she sat through her lectures, commutes and catatonically zoned out in front of the television while eating supper. Come Saturday morning, her internal contemplations remained the same as she reread Rachel's latest email to "Jack".

For obvious reasons, it would be beneficial for Quinn to remove "Jack" from the equation of their pending friendship. The revenge plot in which he was originally created was long forgotten. However, "Jack's" email exchanges with Rachel were incredibly insightful and had allowed Quinn to learn such a depth of information in a rather short period of time, as well as divulge her true personal feelings and make apologies under the guise of a fictional boy. Quinn wasn't prepared to give up the ruse quite yet.

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>to<strong>: Rachel Berry  
><strong>date<strong>: Oct 20, 2016 at 9:46 AM**  
>subject<strong>: forgiveness

Hey Rachel,

Thanks for not giving up on me. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm glad you gave it anyway.

And I guess if I'm being completely honest, I'm also trying to work through some personal feelings, which is part of the reason I blew you off the other night. I hope you don't mind if we just continue our friendly exchanges back and forth for a bit longer, because I'd really miss getting to know you.

I've had some unforeseen changes in my life the past couple of weeks that have really forced me to think about my personal reflexivity and how my actions have (mostly) hurt others. I wasn't the nicest person growing up and though there were a lot of outside factors that forced my hand in many respects, it took me too long to discover how to become my own person. Sometimes I worry, and really I know, that because of my actions in the past, I missed out on some great opportunities and that my whole life could be different now if I hadn't turned a blind eye to not only my faults but the actions of others.

I guess all I can do now is continue to grow and change (hopefully for the better).

Thanks for listening,

Jack

* * *

><p>Hitting send, Quinn's thoughts went back to Rachel. When they departed each other's' company the other morning, a tentative step towards friendship had been taken, but Quinn was unsure who should make the next move. She decided to send a simple text to break the ice that had formed over the past three days.<p>

* * *

><p>Rachel stepped out of the tub and into a room full of steam, wrapping a towel around her wet torso as she walked. She grabbed an additional towel before exiting the bathroom and began to dry her dripping brunette locks as she mentally went through her remaining to-do list. At least her morning workout was complete, and now she just needed to debate whether to make lunch at home or pick something up on the way to the theatre.<p>

Hearing her phone buzzing, Rachel bounded towards her dresser and smiled when she saw the text was from Quinn.

Part of Rachel still couldn't believe the previous day's conversation had even occurred, that Quinn Fabray had come to her for friendship. Rachel couldn't even remember how many times throughout their high school careers where she had put herself on the line, offering her friendship repeatedly to the blonde only to be rebuffed, denied and usually humiliated.

The past was hard to overlook at times and Rachel had to purposely reign in her excitement and eagerness that was reminiscent of her old high school self. She was concerned she would scare off the blonde before they even had a chance to rebuild a friendship that was never really there to begin with. Now, her smile continued to grow as she was elated that Quinn had taken the initiative to reach out.

**Hope your show(s?) go(es?) well today!(?) Q**

Sitting down on her bed, Rachel replied.

**hey! thanks! 2 shows. it's gonna be a looong day. r**

Quinn bit her lip as she read Rachel's reply and silently chuckled at their role reversals from high school as she tried to figure out how she could ask the diva to hang out with her.

**Long day, indeed. I'll let you get back to it then. And maybe we can meet up next week for coffee or a meal if you're free? Q**

Rachel moved to the center of her bed, sitting indian-style as she contemplated her response. A group of her cast mates were all getting together the following evening and it would be the perfect time to introduce her current friends to someone from her past. Briana would no doubt be pissed, she still didn't trust Quinn's motives, but hopefully Molly could help Rachel convince her otherwise.

**actually a group of us are going out after tomorrow's show since it's just a matinee. dinner and drinks. you should come. r**

Quinn studied Rachel's response. In all honesty, she desperately wanted to hang out with the diva, but didn't want to impose nor was she too comfortable hanging out with people she didn't know.

However, Rachel was anticipating such a reaction from Quinn, the head cheerleader with the icy expression and walls that never let anyone in, and immediately sent a follow-up text.

**please, quinn? i want you there. and things from high school haven't changed that much. i still always get my way... r**

Quinn laughed as Rachel's text rolled in, and her stomach fluttered at the thought of Rachel wanting her in any capacity.

**I guess I don't really have a choice then. I'll see you tomorrow. Q**

* * *

><p>Dressed in skintight jeans that accentuated her curves and a fairly sheer, black top, Quinn exited the cab and surveyed the restaurant in front of her. It was already past 8pm and she was late. Rachel had sent a text to let her know that they were already inside, so Quinn swallowed her nerves and walked through the door.<p>

She didn't require the hostess's help in locating the group; their laughter was easily detectable above the quiet din of the rest of the restaurant's occupants.

"QUINN!" Rachel exclaimed across the crowded restaurant as she saw the blonde approaching. She quickly slid along the cushioned horseshoe-shaped seat to reach her newly established friend.

Quinn's breath caught in her chest and a light blush graced her cheeks as took in the tanned and toned skin of the diva that looked stunning in a short, navy halter dress. As her breathing returned to normal, she cocked her head in mild amusement as she watched Rachel try to make her way across the restaurant on unsteady legs. As the two finally met, Rachel threw her arms around the blonde in a bear hug and Quinn stifled her laughter as the smell of alcohol overpowered all of her other senses.

She removed the diva's hands from around her sides and carefully placed her right arm around the smaller girl's back to help guide them towards the group's table. Rachel, leaning into the blonde, gladly accepted the added the support and Quinn savored the moment of feeling the brunette pressed against her side.

As they approached the table, Quinn leaned down and whispered in Rachel's ear. "I see someone's got the party started already. Tell me, does it still taste like pink?"

Wide-eyed that Quinn would even remember such a moment from years ago, a laughed escaped Rachel's mouth that echoed loudly throughout the restaurant and garnered curious glances from the friends around their table.

"Everyone, I would like to introduce Quinn Fabray, an old high school...friend."

Quinn dipped her head, finally feeling a bit uncomfortable with all the foreign eyes staring back her way, and gave the table a small wave of acknowledgement, "Hey."

"You already know Molly and Briana," Rachel pointed and Quinn bobbed her head, "and this is Tom and his boyfriend, Nate; McKensey, but we all call her Kenz; Harold and his fiancée, Leslie; and Katherine."

"It's nice to meet you all," Quinn greeted as she took her seat next to Rachel. Everyone returned her smile except for Briana, who scowled across the table, but no one but Quinn seemed to notice.

"Quinn?" Nate asked, "Please share with the rest of the class. What did you say to Rachel earlier to make her laugh like she did?"

Quinn looked to her left, wanting to receive Rachel's permission before exposing embarrassing high school memories. Rachel had already begun to laugh and nodded towards Quinn to tell the story.

"Well, this one time in high school, Rachel agreed to host a party..."

* * *

><p>Dinner was close to wrapping up and Quinn was surprised how much she had enjoyed her night out with Rachel and her friends. Telling stories of their high school selves had quickly allowed Quinn to integrate with the tightknit group of cast mates and her knowledge of the show also let her to contribute greatly the other conversations going on between the groups of friends.<p>

Throughout the meal, Quinn thought she was able to sneak glances Rachel's way and take in the natural beauty of the small brunette, but Rachel's sixth sense was strong that night and she finally turned and caught the blonde in the act.

"You know it's rude to stare, right?" Rachel asked as she noticed the flush spread up Quinn's cheeks as she bowed her head like a small child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I'm really glad you invited me tonight. All your friends are really nice, except I don't think Briana's too happy I'm here."

Rachel shook her head and smirked as she looked across the table to make sure Briana's attention was still occupied in a deep discussion with Molly, Tom and Nate. "You're right, she isn't." Rachel turned her body towards Quinn so their conversation would be more private. "She's protective, Quinn. We both went to NYU. She was actually a year ahead of me and we met at an open mic night and hit it off right away. We had a lot in common. Briana saw a lot of herself in me, saw how self-conscious I was at first and she was easily able to guess why. She had her own personal group of tormentors in high school, too."

Quinn furrowed her brow in embarrassment, yet again being forced to remember her own horrible teenage actions. "Rachel, you have no idea how ashamed I feel about everything I did. I'm so sorry. I never-"

"Quinn Fabray," Quinn looked up to see a sad smile on Rachel's face, "I know. It's ok."

"No it's not, Rachel. I-" Rachel placed her index finger across Quinn's lips to silence the blonde's protests. The action garnered Quinn's undivided attention.

"I told her all about high school and I what I went through. She just knew the stories and the torment, but didn't put two and two together until you showed up a few weeks ago and she wouldn't stop annoying me until I admitted who you were in my past. She's been around for the last few years, plus she was there for me with all of the Finn drama, too. She's like the older sister I never had and she just wants the best for me. And because of our past, she just doesn't trust you yet. But I can see that you've changed, are changing. It'll just take her a little bit longer. You coming out with us tonight's good for her to see who you are now. It's a start."

With the bill settled, the diners made their way out of the booth and into the fresh night air. Quinn began to say her good nights to her new acquaintances when a small arm linked around her own and started dragging her in the opposite direction of her destination.

Quinn looked down to see a beaming diva. "Umm, Rachel?"

"The night is still young. We're all going dancing now and you're coming, too."

The blonde stopped walking to protest, only to be dragged along the sidewalk by the small brunette.

"I'd like to but I really can't. I've got morning classes tomorrow and-"

"No, no. That wasn't a question."

"But, Rachel-"

"I always get my way, remember?"

* * *

><p>Quinn returned to the club's bar to get drink refills for the group that had gathered around a few standing tables, taking a break from the dance floor to rehydrate. As she sipped on her own tonic and lime, she had stopped drinking after they left the restaurant since she wasn't a fan of losing control in such a public setting as a dance club, she saw a familiar face approach.<p>

"Quinn?" a short, dark-haired girl asked.

Quinn set her drink down on the bar and pursed her lips. On her first night out in weeks, only she would run into the one hook-up she actually went out on a date with. "Hey, Kay," Quinn nodded.

"You never called me back after our date..."

Across the room, Rachel's eyes drifted to the blonde. As she saw Quinn talking to a shorter woman, she soon forgot about the conversation she was participating in with Leslie and Katherine. She watched as the shorter woman brought her hand up and seemingly caressed Quinn's arm. Then, she leaned in towards the blonde's face before Quinn withdrew and stepped back. As she watched the intimate interaction, Rachel's cheeks flushed first in envy, she wasn't sure why, and then in embarrassment when Quinn's hazel eyes found her brown ones from across the dance floor.

Kay followed Quinn's gaze and noticed the brunette duck her head and rejoin the conversation with her friends.

"Oh, I see. You've moved on, that's cool," Kay responded as she realized why Quinn had rebuffed her touch.

"What are you talking about?"

"I didn't realize you were here with someone." Quinn's brow further wrinkled in confusion and finally Kay motioned towards the table surrounded by Rachel and her friends.

Quinn nervously laughed, "Rachel? No, we're just friends."

"Just friends?" Kay asked as she began to walk away. "Not the way you're looking at her. I don't know about you, but I don't look at my 'friends' like that," she said with a final huff over her shoulder.

* * *

><p>Quinn returned to the table and dropped off drinks to their respective owners. Rachel was looking at her expectantly and motioned for her to join her table, but Quinn wasn't in the mood to talk. Instead, she jumped into the conservation between Molly, Tom and Nate about the latest slasherthriller flick.

She could feel the diva's eyes watching her every move, Rachel didn't like to be ignored, and soon felt her presence at her side.

"Is everything okay?" Rachel asked for the second time that night, but this time, Quinn refused to meet her eyes.

The blonde sipped at her tonic, concentrating on the bitter taste before answering. "Yep. All's good." She wanted to be left alone with her thoughts.

"Who were you talking to?"

"An acquaintance." Quinn kept her answers short, hoping Rachel would take the hint.

"Oh. You two just seemed a bit more...friendly." Rachel was persistent.

"Rachel, drop it!" Quinn finally turned to meet the diva's eyes and instantly regretted her tone as she saw the hurt flash across the brunette's face.

"Shit. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that." Quinn ran her hand over face to wash away the guilt.

She looked back down and saw bright, brown eyes still waiting for answer. Quinn took a deep breath, realizing that Rachel was just trying to be the friend she had asked her to be.

"She...she was a mistake. Can we leave it at that?" Quinn closed her eyes in frustration as she realized what she had just admitted.

"Okay." Rachel pushed away from the table and Quinn's side. She grabbed a startled Tom by the hand and dragged him towards the dance floor. She needed something to distract her from the prick of jealousy she was trying desperately to ignore.

* * *

><p>Quinn was still nursing her tonic when felt the woman at her elbow. She had been trying her best to avoid her all evening, but knew that a confrontation was surely inevitable.<p>

She raised and tipped her glass in acknowledgement. "Briana."

The older woman stared down the blonde in front of her that was refusing to meet her eyes. "She's risking a lot letting you in after all you've done to her." Quinn continued to look straight ahead so Briana continued. "I for one wouldn't be giving you another chance. You really did a number on her confidence back in high school. When she first got here, she was nearly afraid to share her talent. Was expecting backlash and snide remarks. And she was so quiet. Never wanted to talk to anyone. It took us forever to pull her out of the shell she had built to protect herself. From you."

Quinn finally returned Briana's glare. She was in no mood to be lectured by a woman that only knew half of her and Rachel's history. "I'm not here trying to rewrite the past, so I'd really appreciate it if you stopped bringing it up, especially when it doesn't really concern you."

"Of course it concerns me! It concerns all of us!" Briana motioned to the cast mates scattered around other tables and the dance floor. "We've become Rachel's surrogate family out here. We're the ones who protect her from people like you. The people who tore her down."

"Shut the fuck up!" Quinn exclaimed as she slammed her drink down on the table, surprising Briana with her sudden anger. The other cast mates silently ended their conversations and looked towards the fuming blonde. "I am not that bitch of a head cheerleader anymore and I don't have to apologize to you for my past mistakes. This is between Rachel and me. I'm not asking for your forgiveness-"

"Good, 'cause you're not getting it-"

"-Rachel's opinion is the only one that matters. You're just threatened that someone else is prepared to step up and be the friend that you already are, be there to help protect her."

"Screw you!" Quinn had struck a nerve. It was true that she knew Rachel in a way none of her current friends ever would.

Quinn looked Briana directly in the eyes. "I'm not here to hurt her. I'm here to be a friend," she stated with purpose. "Now, I want to thank you all for the lovely evening," she met the faces of the cast mates who had been watching the heated exchange, "but I think it's time for me to head home."

She directed her attention to towards the man Rachel had dragged towards the dance floor nearly an hour ago. "I need to tell Rachel I'm leaving. Tom? Is she still dancing?"

"Um, no." He sheepishly looked down towards hands.

"Where is she then?" his boyfriend questioned. The rest of the friends all looked towards the others; no one had seen the brunette in quite some time.

"We were dancing. But there was a guy that was really persistant, kept bringing Rachel drinks, and finally she told me I could leave." Nathan stared at his boyfriend in horror. "What? She told me she was fine."

Instantly alarm bells started going off in Quinn's head. Rachel had been steadily drinking all night and the thought of someone not watching after her in her current drunken state made her heart fall.

"We need to find her," Quinn muttered as she dragged Molly with her and the rest Rachel's friends took off in search of the diva.

* * *

><p>Quinn and Molly had been the ones to stumble upon Rachel in a dark corner of the club, her back pressed up against the wall as a dark-haired male touched and kissed her. Quinn nearly threw up at the sight of the man taking advantage of the nearly unconscious brunette; it was clear that the only thing holding her upright was his arm locked around her back.<p>

"Go to her," Quinn motioned to Molly before she let her rage take over.

With all her strength, Quinn shoved the man away from the tiny diva, allowing Molly to swoop in and catch Rachel as she slid down the wall, the straps of her halter dress untied.

"Who the hell do you think you are, you sick fuck?" Quinn was seething as she approached the man that had stumbled back away from the other two girls. "You just think you can get a woman drunk and then take advantage of her? You're a fucking coward. If I ever see you again, if I ever see you touch another woman, I will fucking kill you," Quinn growled through clenched teeth. "Let's go," she motioned for Molly, who had the diva wrapped in her arms, to follow her.

"I didn't hear her say no."

Quinn stopped walking and held out her arm to halt Molly as well. Her muscles quivered with an anger she didn't know she possessed and before she could contain her fury, her rage erupted and her right fist made contact with the man's face.

"What the hell! You broke my nose you fucking bitch!"

"You're lucky that's all I broke, asshole!" Quinn shrieked as she took Rachel from Molly's grasp, draping her arms securely around the brunette's waist and guiding Rachel's arm up to her shoulders. "Rachel, sweetie, I need you to hang on tight. You've gotta help me out here." Rachel's eyes were glazed over in an alcohol induced haze, but her muscle memory seemed to kick in as she clung to Quinn's frame.

As Quinn approached the club's exit, the rest of Rachel's cast mates and friends looked on in horror as they saw the damage the man had done, her neck and collarbone peppered were bruises.

Briana made her way towards the pair, but stopped when Quinn's hand sliced the air, signaling her not to take one step closer.

"No. Don't you come near her. You were too busy laying in to me about my past screw ups to protect her from what was happening. So now I've got this."

* * *

><p>"It's okay, Rachel. Honey, it's okay. You're safe now. Shhhhh," Quinn cooed as she tried to calm the crying brunette in the back of the taxi. Her own adrenaline had worn off and she cautiously looked at her shaking right hand. Her knuckles were already beginning to swell.<p>

Quinn struggled to get the diva up the stairs outside her apartment, she could barely stand on her own – she was at least thankful that Molly had thought to give her Rachel's clutch, which housed her keys and phone, as they were getting into the taxi. She held the diva tight to her chest with her left arm as her right, injured hand fought with the keys to open the apartment building's outside door.

She continued her protective hold of Rachel, who was still silently crying, during their elevator ride, attempting to shush her tiny whimpers. Her thumbs brushed the diva's cheeks to remove hovering tears and she allowed her lips to ghost over the brunette's temple as she attempted to calm Rachel down.

Inside the apartment, Quinn guided the small brunette towards the bedroom and brought her towards the bed. She finally released her hold on the diva as she laid her down on top of the comforter, allowing her burning muscles a moment to recover. She bent over and went to undo the buckle straps of Rachel's wedges before pulling back the comforter and securing the sleeping diva safely underneath the covers.

Once back in Rachel's living room, Quinn sat on the couch and finally let the reality of the situation hit her. She let the tears fall down her face for a few minutes before moving to the kitchen and placing ice in a towel for her throbbing hand.

She had only been sitting on the couch for a few minutes, her eyes closed, letting the ice numb her pain, when she heard movement in the bedroom. She dropped the ice and quickly made her way across the wood floor towards Rachel.

The diva was struggling to disengage her limbs from the comforter and Quinn quickly came to her aid.

"Rachel? What do you need?"

The brunette looked up at Quinn in disbelief, unsure why the blonde was in her bedroom, before quickly bringing her hand to her mouth. Quinn knew instantly they weren't going to make it to the bathroom in time. Though they gave it their best valiant try, Rachel's chest was covered in vomit and tendrils of hair that had escaped from her loose bun needed to be washed.

Quinn had never been so grateful for Rachel's diminutive size as it was fairly easy to lift her small frame into the bathtub. However, the diva's legs were still too unsteady to stand on own and required Quinn's embrace to keep her on her feet.

"Rachel, we've got to get you cleaned up. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to take off your dress, okay?" Quinn asked as she undid the clasp and pulled the side zipper down – the straps had never been retied. Rachel's brown eyes met Quinn's sad hazels as she nodded her head. Quinn removed the soiled fabric and deposited it in the sink.

Keeping a firm grip around the diva, she fussed with the water temperature. When she thought it was just right, she angled the nozzle back towards herself and the brunette who gasped as the spray hit her skin.

"Shampoo," Quinn stated as she took Rachel's right hand and deposited the liquid in her palm. "Now wash." Rachel's arms robotically went through the motions of lathering her hair. "Rinse," Quinn said as she rotated them towards the spray and helped Rachel angle her head.

She placed the loofa in Rachel's left hand and used her free, right hand to add the soap. "Wash," Quinn echoed her previous commands and Rachel mechanically went through the motions, hesitatingly only slightly when the mesh of the loofa caught on the lace of her black bra. "Don't worry about them. We'll take them off after. Okay, that's good. Rinse again."

Quinn pulled the bath towel tightly around the diva's shivering frame as she continued to help her stay on her feet. They awkwardly made their way back to the bedroom where Quinn was once again glad she could safely deposit the brunette on the bed. Her muscles were aching.

Rachel watched as Quinn quickly rifled through her dresser, looking for clothes not only for the diva, but also herself. She needed to get out of her wet jeans and shirt and was hoping Rachel had some oversized sleep wear that might fit her.

"Thank you," Quinn breathed out a sigh in relief as she found athletic shorts and tees in the third drawer. She grabbed two pairs of each, laying one of the top of the dresser and tucking the other under her arm before turning towards the watchful brown eyes.

"I'll be right back, okay?" She waited before the brunette gave her small nod and hurried back to the bathroom. She stripped off her soaked through clothes, quickly patted herself dry with a towel and threw on the athletic wear.

When she returned to the bedroom, Rachel hadn't moved from the position she left her. "Let's get you dressed. Come here." Quinn motioned towards the dresser, holding out her hands to help guide the diva. "Can you balance okay if you hold on to the dresser top?" Rachel nodded.

From behind, Quinn gently removed the towel and dried the remaining water droplets on the tan skin. With the t-shirt ready, she unsnapped the bra's clasp and allowed the garment to fall to the floor. "Arms up," Quinn instructed as she brought her left arm around the diva's front to help hold her balance as she slipped the shirt over her head.

Without looking, she looped her index fingers through the waist of Rachel's thong and guided the material down her legs. From her crouched position on the floor she directed, "Step out," and then once she had the shorts ready, "Step in," as pulled the mesh material up to her waist.

She carefully helped the small diva walk back towards the bed and once again tucked her under the covers.

Quinn locked her eyes on to the big, brown ones staring back at her. "I'll be right out in the living room if you need anything, okay?" Tears welled up in Rachel's eyes, causing Quinn's eyes to burn as she fought back the tears and lump in her throat.

"Don't cry, Rach. Please don't cry. It'll be okay. I'll be right out there." Rachel nodded.

Quinn brushed her lips across Rachel's forehead before turning off the light and making her way back towards the couch. Picking up the discarded towel, she returned to the kitchen to replace the ice. She finally settled back on the couch and glanced towards the cable box's clock. 3:43am.

Quinn closed her eyes and fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5 Night In

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note I**: Chapter 5. It's about twice as long as usual, so I hope the delay in posting was well worth the wait. As always, please let me know what you think, and there's also there's a little tongue in cheek nod that I hope you'll enjoy.

**Chapter 5 – Night In  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Quinn sat straight up on the couch, all her senses on high alert. There had been a noise, something loud enough to rip her from her sleep. She looked at the digital clock, the only light emanating in the dark apartment. 4:08am. Quinn groaned; she probably hadn't even been asleep a half-hour.<p>

She tiptoed across the floor to the doorway of Rachel's bedroom, straining her ears for any sound of movement or discomfort. When she was satisfied that Rachel was indeed sound asleep, the blonde once again relocated back to her spot on the couch.

Sitting down, a chill ran up Quinn's spine as her right foot slid in icy, cold water. She nodded her head in realization; her home-made ice pack hitting the floor must have woken her.

Glancing down at her swollen right hand, Quinn took in the purple discoloration and red welts surrounding her knuckles. She released a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding and let tears fall she didn't even know she needed to shed.

Her body slid down the front of the couch to the wood floor as sobs racked her aching core – her muscles still burned from helping to hold the weight of Rachel for the previous hours – and she forced her hand to cover her mouth, muffling her cries so as not to awaken Rachel.

Quinn tried to get control over her breathing, her breaths occurring in short, struggling gasps as she willed herself not to hyperventilate. But as soon as she thought she had the upper hand on her emotions, a fresh wave of pain and what-ifs washed over her and she was shaking with her rage and guilt once more.

They had been getting along so well early in the evening, and Rachel was only trying to be the supportive friend Quinn had asked her to be when she questioned the blonde about Kay. Yet instead of letting down her walls and letting the diva into her mind and life, she had shut down and then let Rachel walk away and disappear into the crowd on the dance floor. It was Quinn's fault Rachel had strayed from the group.

A fresh swell of panic rolled through Quinn's body as she thought about the consequences of her bickering with Briana, and what might have happened if Briana hadn't pushed her to want to leave the club... What if she and Molly, or anyone else in the group, hadn't found the tiny diva? What if the man had fought back? What if he had dragged Rachel into the bathroom, or worse, out of the club all together?

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the mental images out of her mind as she fought urge to vomit. Quinn focused on taking deep breaths – in and out. She shakily stood from her position on the floor, grabbing the afghan draped over the back of the couch and settled down into the cushions.

Rachel was safe; Quinn had made sure of that. Hopefully the brunette wouldn't remember the details of the night, but if she did, they would deal with them in the morning.

Quinn closed her eyes and fell asleep, again.

* * *

><p>Her head was pounding, her mouth dry and her throat muscles were tender as she tried to swallow back the bitter taste residing on her tongue. Rachel felt like hell.<p>

She tried to stand up and instantly retreated back to the edge of the mattress. Her bedroom was spinning. After sitting and regrouping for a few moments, Rachel tested her legs and attempted to stand. She cautiously took a tentative step towards her door, her brain and limbs seemed to be communicating properly now, and she made her way to the bathroom.

Flicking the light switch, Rachel took in an unfamiliar scene. Towels were strewn about the floor. Her shower curtain was open from the wrong end and her shampoo and soap weren't in the caddy. Rachel slowly turned towards the vanity and mirror. Her dress lay discarded in the sink and as Rachel shifted her eyes up to greet her appearance in the mirror, she gasped in shock at her reflection.

Mascara was smeared and streaked around her red-rimmed and swollen eyes. She wondered why she had been crying...

Rachel leaned forward towards the mirror and cocked her head in confusion as she noticed an odd discoloration on her skin that was partially obscured by the neck of her t-shirt. She then looked down at her own body in confusion – why was she not wearing her normal pajamas? Why was she in workout attire? She tried to shake the fuzziness from her head as she redirected her attention back to her neck.

Tugging the fabric of her shirt to the side, Rachel revealed purple and maroonish marks, bruises and even a few cuts. She quickly stripped her shirt off as she continued to assess damage she couldn't account for. There were marks all along her collarbone down to the dip of her breasts. Rachel pulled her brown, wavy locks away from her neck, only to find more marks. She shakily lifted her hand to lightly touch a welt under her jaw line, wincing at the tenderness before gasping as the fog lifted from her memory.

* * *

><p>"<em>Is everything alright?" Tom asked as he was forcibly dragged by the wrist towards the dance floor. "I was in the middle of a conversation back there, ya know."<em>

"_Just shut up and dance," Rachel pouted. The blonde-haired man furrowed his brow and attempted to wrench his hand from the tiny diva's surprisingly strong grip. "Tom. Hey, Tom. I'm sorry. I just need a little bit of a distraction right now." She beamed her patented smile his way and couldn't help but return a grin of his own._

_Rachel was essentially their dysfunctional family's youngest child, and thus she was prone to her diva-like outbursts and demands. Her stubbornness and ability to get her way was legendary amongst their family of friends. They had been in the same NYU class, had taken many of the same courses and often ended up sharing the stage. They had grown up together these past few years and he accepted her like one of his five sisters back home. He tried to shelter her from the wickedness of the world, and if right now she said she needed a distraction, he would be the one to provide it._

_Tom extended his right palm and gracefully bowed to the now giggling brunette, "May I have this dance?" he wiggled his eyebrows for effect. Rachel giggled at the formality as she placed her hand in his before shrieking as Tom quickly twirled them around the floor, not even remotely trying to match the beat of the club's music._

xxx

_Quinn furrowed her brow as she watched Rachel and Tom's retreating forms as she yanked him by the arm towards the center of the club. Something had flashed across Rachel's eyes when Quinn had possibly inadvertently outed herself, but the look was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, not allowing the blonde to try and decipher its meaning._

_As Tom twirled the tiny diva around the dance floor, Quinn watched in intent. Every few minutes, her eyes would lock with Rachel's and she'd again see that mysterious flash across those chocolate brown eyes. It left her wondering._

xxx

_After the first half hour out on the dance floor, Tom had anxiously met his boyfriend's eyes from across the room to try and gauge Nate's reaction to his absence. _

_Nate met Tom's eyes and laughed lightly as he watched the anxious expression on his boyfriend's face as he held up a thumbs up or a thumbs down behind Rachel's back. Dancing was not one of Nate's strengths and actually bored the hell out of him, but Tom with his stage background relished any chance he got to strut his stuff. Nate saw how much fun his boy was having with Rachel, so he returned the thumbs up with a nod of encouragement. Tom grinned back before dipping the diva and disappearing once again into the crowd._

xxx

_Tom was at the bar getting the diva and himself their second round of drinks since they had started dancing in the club, leaving Rachel on her own for a few minutes. _

_She let her eyes drift back over to her friends still milling and conversing around the tall tables, stopping only when she found hazel eyes holding her gaze. There was an intensity to the stare that stirred something deep within Rachel, but she pushed the thoughts away as she once again._

_Tonight was supposed to be about her friends, but she had been ignoring them ever since she forced Tom to the dance floor because she was mad. She was mad at Quinn. Why was she mad at Quinn? The alcohol muddled her thoughts and everything was fuzzy..._

_She was mad because Quinn wouldn't stop staring at her with her deep and concerned look after she was the one that pushed her away in the first place because the blonde wouldn't let her in, wouldn't talk about the woman at the bar who had touched Quinn in a way Rachel wanted to touch Quinn– _

_Wait... What? _

_Rachel laughed into her empty drink glass; her thoughts weren't making sense. She didn't want to touch Quinn, no she just wanted the blonde to be honest with her and not push her away like all the times she had back in high school when Rachel tried to extend her offers of friendship. She wanted Quinn to open up and trust her. Talk to her._

_The brunette looked back to the tables and found those hazel eyes still following her every move._

xxx

_During Tom's third trip to the bar, Rachel's thoughts were interrupted by a strong hand on her shoulder. She rotated around to meet a mystery man's dark eyes and smirk._

"_You looked thirsty...and lonely." He offered her a drink._

_Warning bells and whistles were screaming in the back of Rachel's brain, but the alcohol that had already taken up residency had removed all of her defenses and she gladly accepted the unknown beverage, bringing it to her lips._

"_But shhhhh," Rachel removed the rim of the glass and replaced her index finger over her lips, "this'll hafta be our lil' secret. My friends won't be happy I'ma talking to strangers." She brought the glass back to her lips and hurriedly threw back the rest of the burning liquid in a few short gulps before shooing the tall, dark-haired man away as she saw Tom snaking through the dancing crowd._

xxx

"_I don't know about you, but I'm ready for another refill," Tom motioned to the empty glass in Rachel's hand as she swayed to the beat of the DJ's current song of choice. She nodded her head in agreement. "Ok. I'll be right back. Dance wide to save my spot!" he yelled over his shoulder as he made the fourth trip to the bar since they had started dancing over an hour ago._

xxx

_With their drinks in hand, Tom headed back towards the area he had left the tiny brunette, but her petite form was nowhere in sight. He slowly made his way through the sea of grinding pairs before he spotted the navy blue dress and brown head of hair thrown back in laughter. He frowned when noticed she was laughing at a dark-haired male's jokes. He engaged his big-brother-mode and swiftly strode over to her side._

"_Rach! Introduce me to your new friend." Tom positioned his body between Rachel and the leering man._

"_Thomas, this's Gavin. He already got me some drinks, but I'lla take this one, too." She greedily accepted her whiskey sour from Tom's extended hand and then snatched the cherries on top with her tongue in a most unlady-like fashion. _

_Tom grimaced at Rachel's slurred speech. He knew she had too much alcohol coursing through her blood to make any positive life choices at the moment, so he would decide for her._

xxx

"_Rach, honey, I think it's time for us to go." Tom trailed his hand down Rachel's arm before firmly lacing their fingers together. _

"_But I'm not finished wish my drinks," Rachel mumbled, pouted and wobbled as Tom tried to pull her off the dance floor and back towards their tables of friends. "Let go of me, Tom!" Rachel struggled in his grip. She was still busy drinking and talking with her new friend._

"_No, Rachel. You've had plenty to drink and are currently not capable of making rational decisions!" Tom tugged on her hand again, his patience wearing incredibly thin._

_Rachel didn't appreciate the continued tugging, especially when it caused her to spill some of her drink, landing near the hem of her dress. She yanked her hand out of Tom's hold and narrowed her eyes before scoffing and continuing her speech slurring. _

"_And you're the one to be giving me advice about good decision making? That's laughable considering your little tryst with Benji last weekend. Oh, I know you say it was just a mistake, but I wonder if Nate would agree?" Tom's heart dropped and his face reddened. "Thus, I believe I'm more than capable of making my own decisions, Thomas, and I'd appreciate it if you would just leave me alone."_

_Even though hurt by Rachel's tone and actions, Tom couldn't leave her alone in her current state. She was always a silly drunk, an honest drunk and now she was an angry, spiteful drunk, a level of drunkenness he had never before witnessed. It didn't bode well for anyone. Tom reached his hand out to the brunette once more, "Please, Rach..."_

"_I believe she said for you to leave her alone."_

_Tom stared back at his friend in disbelief as she refused to meet his eyes, nearly smirking at Gavin's words. His anger instantly flared. He had spent the greater part of the evening catering to Rachel's needs, showering her with attention and ignoring his boyfriend. He turned on his heel and walked away. He needed to find Briana. Briana would convince Rachel to stop being a dumb ass, come to her senses and rejoin her friends. _

xxx

"_What's going on?" Tom whispered as he took in his friends' faces, all staring towards Quinn who seemed to be lost in her own thoughts._

_In a British accent mocking the narrators of various nature documentaries, Nate answered, "We're about to witness one of nature's greatest battles as the alpha lioness stalks the lone gazelle – I mean really, look at those legs," Nate broke character for just a moment, "who is unknowingly simply drinking from the watering hole," Quinn sipped at her tonic nearly on cue, "unaware of her pending fate. Let's watch what happens..."_

xxx

_Quinn had felt Briana's stare for the past five minutes and it was starting to seriously piss her off. It had distracted her and she had lost sight of Rachel and those chocolate eyes that were still flashing their enigmatic message that she had yet to interpret. She continued to scan the crowd for the bubbly brunette and sighed as she felt Briana approach her side._

"_Briana," she tipped her glass, just wanting to get this over and done with._

xxx

"_Oh! Well this is an interesting turn of events. The gazelle standing up to the lioness, making the first move. Settle in all, this is going to fun!" Nate chuckled._

"_I wish we had popcorn," Molly mused._

_As the heated argument began between Quinn and Briana, Tom forgot the reason he had left the dance floor in the first place as he watched the drama unfold before his eyes._

xxx

_She should have stopped. She should have stopped drinking. She should have stopped drinking over an hour ago._

_And now she needed him to stop. She needed him to stop touching. She needed him to stop feeling. She need him to stop kissing._

_She needed her eyes to stop closing. She needed her words to stop failing. She needed to say, "Stop."_

_But every time the words were ready on the tip of her tongue, his lips would smash against hers and steal them away._

xxx

"_I need to tell Rachel I'm leaving. Tom? Is she still dancing?"_

_Tom's head snapped to attention at the sound of his own name coming from the gazelle's – the blonde's mouth. _

"_Um, no." _

Shit. Rachel. Shit. Stupid, stupid, stupid, _Tom chided himself._

"_Where is she then?" _

Lie. Through your teeth. Lie.

"_We were dancing. But there was a guy that was really persistent, kept bringing Rachel drinks, and finally she told me I could leave. What? She told me she was fine."_

xxx

_He stopped. Something made him stop. But now she couldn't stop from falling and the wall scratched her bare back as she slid._

_Screaming. She heard screaming. But the screaming needed to stop. Her head hurt. The screaming made her head hurt. Her head needed to stop hurting._

Strong arms. Protective arms. Reassuring voice. Soothing words.

_Yes, everything will be okay. Wait... Why is something not okay?_

Oh, I'm not okay.

xxx

Strong arms. Protective arms. Reassuring voice. Soothing words.

_A chaste brush against the side of her head that still hurt. Her head needed to stop hurting. She needed to stop sobbing._

_Her legs needed to start working. Why weren't they working?_

_Her eyes were closing. She'd stop fighting them._

xxx

_Trapped. Why was she trapped._

_Sick. She was going to get sick._

_Cold water. Why was she in the shower? _

_Why won't her legs work?_

Strong arms. Protective arms. Reassuring voice. Soothing words.

_Stop shaking._

_Stop crying._

Strong arms. Protective arms. Reassuring voice. Soothing words.

_Stop crying._

* * *

><p>The tears needed to stop. Rachel was okay. She was in her apartment, she was safe.<p>

_Calm down. Breathe. You're okay_, she repeated over and over.

Rachel gradually stood up from the floor where she had collapsed as the previous night's sobering memories had hit her full force. Turning to leave the bathroom, Rachel stopped in the doorway as she noticed a foot sticking off the end of her couch.

Strong arms. Protective arms. Reassuring voice. Soothing words.

* * *

><p>Rachel grabbed at her phone lying on her bedside table. Eight missed calls and 22 new text messages. She ignored them and hit her speed dial.<p>

"Molly?"

"_Rachel! Oh my god, Rachel. You're okay. You're alive."_

"...Yes."

"_We were all starting to worry. It's nearly 10 and you still weren't answering your phone and no one knew Quinn's number-"_

"Quinn?"

"_-and I was literally just getting my jacket on to walk out the door to come check on you. But I assume Quinn's there, right?"_

"Quinn?"

"_Yes, Quinn. She brought you home last night."_

Strong arms. Protective arms. Reassuring voice. Soothing words.

"Quinn brought me home?"

"_Yeah..."_

"Oh. Oh! She must be the one on the couch!"

"_Rach?"_

"Yes?"

"_Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine. I-I'll be fine."

"_What all do you remember?"_

"I remember drinking too much, having a guy all over me and then waking up here."

Strong arms. Protective arms. Reassuring voice. Soothing words.

"_Well, Tom feels absolutely horrible."_

"What? Why?"

"_He left you! He left you on the dance floor with that douchebag!"_

"Well, I wasn't very nice to Tom. I guess I remember that, too, actually."

"_Really? He hasn't said anything... Either way he feels horrible. So you should probably call him. And Briana."_

"Briana?"

"_Yep, Briana."_

"Molly?"

_"..."_

"What else don't I remember?"

"_Well..."_

"Out with it, Molly."

"_Everyone kind of forgot about you being out on the dance floor alone because once you weren't at Quinn's side as a shield...and Briana kind of went after her."_

"Shit."

"_Well, actually, it wasn't that bad. Quinn held her own, didn't back down."_

"Really?"

"_Mhm. But she pushed Quinn to the point of her just wanting to leave the club, and that's when we realized no one had seen you for awhile..."_

"Oh."

"_And you need to call Briana 'cause she's pissed that Quinn wouldn't let her help you."_

"Wait. Now I'm confused. Why is she mad?"

"_It's so stupid. But...you don't remember leaving the club last night?"_

"Not really..."

Strong arms. Protective arms. Reassuring voice. Soothing words.

"_When we all realized you weren't around anymore, it was really like a cartoon the way we all scattered out to start looking for you. Anyway, Quinn grabbed me to help look and we found you and she immediately...it was intense. She shoved the guy off you and pushed me to catch you and then she was screaming, yelling so loud at that guy. She threatened to kill him. And then when we were walking away, he said you didn't say 'no'. And oh my god, Rach, she hit him so hard. She hit him so hard his fucking nose broke. Like, there was instant blood and it was like his nose was clay the way it was smooshed to the right side of his face."_

"Wow..."

"_And then she basically carried you out of the club because you were so drunk off your ass you couldn't walk – no offense – and wouldn't let anyone near you, especially Briana."_

"Ah, there's the problem."

"_Yeah, she couldn't be your hero."_

"Oh my god. When will she fucking get over it? It was just a kiss!"

"_I know, right!"_

"And she's the one that kissed me! I didn't even kiss back. I don't kiss girls – not that there's anything wrong with that – and I understand that I was crying and hysterical over Finn, but even if I did kiss girls, which I don't, why did she even think that was the appropriate time to make a move?"

"_For real. She just keeps saying she felt or saw fireworks or something cliché like that."_

"That's ridiculous. No one sees fireworks. And I'm done with her overprotective attitude. If she had had her way, Quinn wouldn't have even been allowed to join us last night...and then..."

"_I know, Rach...I'm so glad she was there. And, everyone else really liked her_."

"I guess I should actually go and check on Quinn. Like you said it's nearly, well now it is after ten and- Shit. She's going to be pissed."

"_What?"_

"Quinn didn't even want to go out last night after dinner because she has classes today, but I dragged her out anyway and then I got piss ass drunk and she had to take care of me and then sleep on my couch."

"_I don't think she's going to be mad, Rach."_

"Why not?"

"_Well, it's obvious that you don't remember the details of last night, but Quinn was awesome. She really was. If you told me now about how she treated you back in high school, all of your past history, I wouldn't believe you after I saw how she protected you last night."_

Strong arms. Protective arms. Reassuring voice. Soothing words.

"_She won't be mad."_

"Okay. Well, I'll talk to you later. I need to go and see how she's doing and thank her and everything. You'll let all the others know that I'm fine?"

"_Of course. Talk you later, Rach."_

"Bye, Molly."

* * *

><p>Once she had gotten off the phone with Molly, Rachel had taken the time to survey the disarray of her bathroom and bedroom, towels all over the floors, her dress in the sink, Quinn's now damp clothes on the tiled floor and had been able to piece together the puzzle of the previous night's events and everything Quinn had done to protect and take care of her. She watched Quinn's chest rise and fall in the peacefulness of sleep, her blonde hair splayed out around her arms that were neatly tucked under her head as a make-shift pillow. Rachel hated to wake the blonde who was no doubt exhausted after dealing with her antics and mishaps the night before.<p>

Rachel gently touched Quinn's left shoulder and spoke in a hushed tone, "Quinn? Hey, it's time to get up. Quinn?"

The blonde stirred beneath her touch and slowly, Quinn's hazels met Rachel's chocolate browns.

Quinn was instantly off the couch, her hands finding Rachel's shoulders and her worried eyes raking over the brunette's face and body.

"Rachel! Are you okay! What's wrong? What can I do? Are you hurt? Do you feel sick again? Why aren't you talking? Rachel?"

"Whoa. Slow down there, Slugger. I'd answer if you'd actually stop talking," Rachel said through a grin and a bit of a laugh that quickly died away as Quinn's hands fell from the diva's shoulders and wrapped her in an embrace.

"This is not a time to joke, Rachel. I was so worried last night. I don't know what I would have done if...if," her words trailed off as she tried to hold back a sob similar to the ones she had just experienced earlier that morning.

Rachel was speechless as she felt the wetness from Quinn's cheek transfer to her own temple. Quinn was crying. Quinn Fabray was crying over concern for Rachel Berry. Then, she took note of Quinn's hold around her tiny body. These were definitely the strong arms, the protective arms from last night, but now it was Rachel's turn to be the reassuring voice with the soothing words as she felt the blonde's body start tremble.

"Quinn, it's alright. I'm okay. Really, I am. Just a couple scratches and bruises, but I'm fine." Rachel lowered their bodies back to the couch and ran her arms up and down the blonde's back, causing Quinn to shiver at the touch. "Just breathe, Quinn. That's it, in and out. I'm okay."

The blonde picked her chin up from Rachel's shoulder to meet the brunette's eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Rachel. I should have been there for you last night and then none of this would have even happened. I should have-"

"Look at me, Quinn," Rachel cut the blonde off, "I'm fine. I'm okay. And you _were_ there for me last night." She reached down to take the blonde's hands in hers and gave each a reassuring squeeze.

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, drawing a hissed breath through her teeth as pain shot throughout her right hand, and Rachel's head snapped down to lap to see what had caused the blonde's reaction.

"Oh my god, Quinn! Your hand!" Rachel stared in horror at the bruising and swelling around Quinn's knuckles.

"Well, you did call me Slugger..." Quinn pushed out with a trembling breath as she tried in vain not to let the tears falls from her eyes.

"This is not a time to joke, Quinn," Rachel echoed the blonde's own words from only moments ago. "Your hand has to be broken. We need to get you to the hospital. Right now. Get up. Wait, no. You sit down. I'll call an ambulance." As Rachel made her move towards her cell phone back in the bedroom, her progress was stopped by Quinn's left hand grasped around her tiny wrist.

"Rachel, sit back down. I definitely don't need an ambulance and I don't need to go to the hospital. I don't think it's even broken. See?" Quinn gingerly clenched and unclenched her right hand to illustrate her point. "You just squeezed right on the knuckles when you grabbed my hand."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize. You must have hit that guy so hard."

"Not guy, Rachel. _Asshole_. An almost-rapist. Seriously. I should have done a lot more than just break his fucking nose. You actually remember me hitting him?"

"No," Rachel placed her hand on Quinn's arm to calm the blonde whose anger was rising as she recalled the details from the previous evening, "but I just got off the phone with Molly and she filled me in on everything and how you got reacquainted with your inner HBIC." Quinn groaned at the term and Rachel quickly continued, "I'm really glad you did, Quinn. And that you were there for me. And you obviously took care of me last night. So now, let me take care of you." Rachel cautiously reached out for Quinn's right palm and with the lightest of touches, gently prodded the blonde's hand.

Quinn's body betrayed her, goose bumps forming on her arms and chills running the length of her spine from the diva's delicate touch.

"You've got goose flesh, Quinn. Are you cold?"

_No_. "Y-yeah. Yes. Do you have a sweatshirt I could borrow?"

"Sure. I've got a couple of old NYU ones in my closet. I'll go get it and then we can head out to have your hand checked."

"Rachel, I told you I wasn't going to the hospital."

"I know, but you still need to get it looked at. I have someone-"

"No, Rachel. It'll be fine. It's just like any old injury. Ice for twenty-"

"Quinn Fabray. There's really no use in arguing with me as you have no choice in the matter. I'm going to take care of you and you're going to have to deal with it. And if you've already forgotten, just remember that I always get-"

"Yeah, yeah. You always get your way. Fine. Let's just go and get this over with," Quinn sighed.

* * *

><p>Quinn found herself back in Rachel's dressing room for a third time and once again taking in the pictures and items scattered across the diva's vanity. Most notably, the framed photo of the brunette and big oaf, Finn, was missing and Quinn couldn't suppress her smile.<p>

"Sorry I kept you waiting... What are you smiling at?"

_Busted_. "Nothing," Quinn laughed in her amusement. "So what's the verdict?"

"Papa Bear is just finishing up with one of the dancers up stairs and then he'll down to see you."

"Papa Bear? You're going to let some guy named Papa Bear diagnose my injured hand?"

"Dr. Behr, B-E-H-R, is like a grandfather to all of us, hence the name. He's been working throughout the theatre for the past fifty years-"

"So you're going to let a senile, old man diagnose my injured hand?"

"Quinn!"

"Rachel!"

The diva just kind of stared at the blonde, who was smirking, in shock. This was banter. She was bantering with former head cheerleader, Quinn Fabray. They were acting like friends, well, because they were friends.

Quinn broke the silence that had fallen over the pair. "Why do you even have a doctor on staff? That's not normal for most shows, right?"

"Well, most shows will have someone on staff, but they'll be more of an on-call doctor. But then there are shows that are really physically intense, like _The Lion King_ for instance where someone is on staff and present all the time to deal with day to day aches, pains and injuries. And you saw our show, remember big USO number with the swing dancing? And then battle scene in the second act?" Quinn nodded. "Well, it all looks spectacular because of the choreography, but it really does a number on our bodies."

"That makes sense."

"Yeah, and because of him always being here, he's actually been able to do a lot of preventative maintenance, so to speak, for injuries and catch issues before they become worse. Hey, pass me that bag?"

"Geez this is heavy!"

"I suppose so. I have accumulated a lot of stage make-up over the years."

"Oh, you're going to give me a make-over while we wait for Dr. Behr?" Quinn just didn't feel right referring to him as Papa.

"No," Rachel replied as she stripped off her scarf and sweatshirt, leaving only a white camisole on her torso, "I need to make sure I can cover up these up before tomorrow's show."

Quinn's anger began to bubble again as she saw the damage inflicted across the brunette's neck, shoulders and collarbone. In her worry for taking care of Rachel the night before, she had barely paid any attention to the marks scattered across her tanned skin and a pang of guilt recurred and settled in her stomach. "I swear if I ever see that bastard again..." She squeezed her burning eyes shut.

Having seen the glassiness of Quinn's hazel eyes, Rachel left her seat in front of Molly's vanity and wrapped her arms around the blonde, pulling her from the seat. "I know, Quinn. I know."

The blonde reveled in the feel and touch of the tiny diva's grasp as well as the heat radiating off her body as she buried her face in the crook of Rachel's neck. "But I should have been there. And then you wouldn't even be worrying about having to cover these up," Quinn's lips unconsciously grazed a bruise before she settled her head back into Rachel's shoulder, "I should have been there."

Rachel managed to suppress the shiver that had threatened to run the length of her spine at the delicate touch of Quinn's lips and hot breath against her skin that was accompanied by a pull in the pit of her stomach she hadn't felt in ages. What was it? Excitement? Desire? No.

_Yes. Lies._

She gulped down the lump in her throat at the realization before savoring the sensation of the blonde's weight pressed against her.

"But you're here now, Quinn. And again, you were there last night when I needed you most. My hero." Rachel shifted her head to the left and placed a small peck against blonde hair before disengaging from Quinn's hold around her hips. She settled back into her seat in front of Molly's vanity with a pure look of amusement settled across her features because of the thoughts running through her head. She laughed.

"What's so funny?" Quinn asked as tucked her left leg under her body, reclining back into the diva's own chair.

"I was just thinking back to high school and how often I wished I had been invited to sleepovers, especially when you, Santana, and Brittany use to constantly talk about your fun weekends during glee. And then, last night I finally got my wish to have a sleepover with head cheerleader-"

"-former-"

"-with former head cheerleader Quinn Fabray and I was too out of it to even enjoy myself."

Talking about high school, Quinn directed her attention to Rachel's mirror and plucked the Glee Club's picture from the reflective surface. The photo was taken after their Nationals win senior year and Quinn took in the faces of her fellow eleven misfits.

"Rachel?" Quinn mused.

"Hmm?" Rachel responded as she applied more concealer around a particularly dark mark.

"Why weren't we friends?"

In mid dab, Rachel turned her head to bemusedly look at the blonde, her brow furrowing when she saw Quinn examining the Nationals picture. "Are you being serious?"

"Yeah."

Rachel gawked at the blonde. "Are you sure you only just injured your hand last night? You didn't hit your head last night, too, causing temporary amnesia?"

Quinn finally turned her head to take in the gaping and confused expression on the diva's face before grinning. "Obviously I know _why_ we weren't friends, Rachel. Slushies, bullying, torment, name calling," Rachel nodded in agreement, "You stealing my boyfriends," Rachel's face dropped and she opened her mouth in mock shock, "But we should have been friends."

The brunette pondered Quinn's statement and chewed on her lower lip. "You think?"

"I do," Quinn nodded before turning back to the picture she had placed on the vanity's surface. "We had so much in common, Rachel," the diva scrunched up her disbelieving face. "No, hear me out. When we first, well for lack of a better word, reconnected at the end of last month, you were very...honest with your emotions. And, even though at the time I didn't think I deserved your anger, I've now come to accept that I most certainly did and if the roles were reversed, I probably wouldn't have let myself off as easy as you did.

"But you told me how high school was basically just one big performance for you, and that's really all it was for me, too. We were both constantly putting on a show, but where you were putting on the show for yourself, to get you through the days, I was putting the show on for everyone else. Cheerleading, for example. I didn't want to be a cheerleader, but my mom was a cheerleader, my sister was a cheerleader and thus my father thought I needed to be one. Then there was Celibacy Club. Again, just going through the motions I was raised to do."

"Oh, c'mon, Quinn. You _loved_ the attention you got all throughout high school."

"No, that's not true. I didn't like the attention at all, the attention that forced perfection. Be the perfect daughter, sister, student, Christian, girlfriend, cheerleader, prom queen...bully. All for show. All because that's who others thought I should be, how I should act. What my place was at home and at school. That's what attention got me. The only good that came from all it was the power. And with power comes influence. I was able to shape and mold opinions, and I think that's the only thing that saved me for four years.

"But we really should have been friends, Rachel," Quinn echoed as she traced her finger over the 8x10 photo. "We could have helped each other out. I know it. And I think both of our lives would have been so different. Better."

A silence fell over the dressing room and Quinn continued to mentally kick herself for her past and present regrets and Rachel was simply stunned speechless. She couldn't believe the blonde in front of her was the same person as her high school tormentor, the same ice queen that was always devoid of feeling and constantly wore a stoic and precisely measured expression. Quinn's confession forced Rachel to reexamine all of her previous impressions of the blonde, their history and their current friendship.

Finally, Rachel opened her mouth to reply, but the booming and low, melodic voice of Papa Bear interrupted her attempt. "So where's my newest patient?"

* * *

><p>"I'm really glad nothing's broken. I would have felt extremely guilty if you had seriously injured yourself defending my honor," Rachel playfully bumped into the blonde's side as they exited the theatre and starting strolling along the sidewalk.<p>

"Yep. Just a simple sprain. I told you it wasn't broken this morning when you wanted to call 9-1-1 and have me airlifted to the nearest specialist!" Quinn teased.

"An ambulance, Quinn! Not a helicopter! I wanted to call an ambulance. I was just worried for your welfare. Why have you stopped walking?" Rachel asked over her shoulder, about ten paces in front of the blonde.

"Because the subway entrance is right here, and though I thoroughly enjoyed our evening last night, excluding certain events of course, and our morning spent together, I've missed most of today's classes, including handing in a few assignments. So, I need to get home and get to campus and talk to my professors. And show off my war wound for pity."

"Oh, okay." Rachel's face fell and the action didn't go unnoticed by Quinn.

"What?"

"I guess you wouldn't want to do lunch then." Rachel shyly looked towards her feet and twisted her hands anxiously.

Quinn found the diva's actions endearing as they were the complete opposite of her normal demeanor.

"No, lunch won't work, Rachel, but I'd love to do dinner."

The diva lifted her face and beamed.

* * *

><p>Rachel flitted around the apartment, tidying up and going through her normal Monday routine of cleaning and laundry, but her mind kept drifting to Quinn. Thoughts and feelings in regards to the blonde kept wandering to the forefront of the diva's mind and she kept brushing them aside, unprepared to deal with their implications.<p>

As she was folding her last load of laundry, she couldn't take it anymore and grabbed her phone out of her pocket and called Molly.

Rachel needed to talk out her feelings with someone who knew the past and was acutely aware of the new developments in the present.

"Pick up. Pick up, pick up, pickup," the brunette willed her friend.

"_You've reached Molly Wietbrock..."_

"Argh!" Rachel shook her fist in the air and threw her phone to the bed before collapsing on it in frustration. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples willing a solution to appear to solve her problems, when the thought hit her. If she couldn't talk out her problems, she could write them out.

Rachel rolled off the bed and grabbed her laptop.

* * *

><p>Quinn had returned from campus glad that any consequences due to her absence in class would be minimal, and most professors, after observing her bandaged right hand, had no problem accepting her late assignments.<p>

She was looking forward to spending another evening with the diva, especially since they had agreed earlier in the afternoon to just have a quiet dinner at Rachel's sans alcohol. Quinn believed that due to the ordeal they experienced together the previous night and including her straightforward candor at the theatre, that their friendship was off to a positive, albeit unique, beginning.

After showering, since her fully-clothed shower with the diva didn't really count, Quinn sat in front of her computer to go through her normal morning routine she had yet to complete for the day.

Writing as "Jack", Quinn and Rachel had exchanged simple pleasantries over the past few days, and therefore the blonde was fully unprepared when she opened Rachel's latest message.

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>to<strong>: TheFauxWriter  
><strong>date<strong>: Oct 24, 2016 at 2:15 PM**  
>subject<strong>: I don't know where to start...

Dear Jack,

When I was in college, my friends used to make me carry around two flags when we were attending parties. The green flag = good idea. The red flag = bad idea. I was never much of a drinker before I was of legal age, and also due to my small stature, my tolerance for alcohol consumption is quite low. It doesn't take much to push me beyond buzzed and tipsy to where I'm drunk with an absolute inability to make rational and well-informed decisions. Thus the reason my friends required me to carry the flags as they forced me to stop and think about my actions. I think I need to make travel-sized flags now to keep in purse with me at all times for future evenings such as the one I experienced last night.

My friends and I decided dinner and drinks were in order yesterday evening after a week of particularly grueling shows. Not only did I drink too much at dinner, but then when we went out afterwards, I didn't slow down, but rather sped up my intake and consequently my inebriation.

As a result, I had some jealously issues, that I would have been able to appropriately handle if I had my wits about me at the time, and in true-diva fashion, stormed off when I pushed too hard too soon.

I continued to drown my feelings in even more alcohol and then accepted drinks from an absolute stranger who could have easily slipped something into my drink, and he actually possibly might have since I was nearly assaulted. I was too drunk to function and say no and push him away, and my friend I was pissed at came to my rescue, punching the asshole, breaking his nose, and taking care of me the remainder of the night while I elegantly threw up all over myself and couldn't even manage to walk, let alone stand on my own.

And this person who took care of me is the same person who was tormenting me over five years ago and making my everyday life hell. And now that we're reconnecting, I all of a sudden have to reconcile these two completely different people, the high schooler and the present professional. They need to meld in my mind because I just cannot make sense of this unexpected transformation that's happening in front of my very own eyes and how it's making me feel, what it's making me feel.

But, I need to do this fast because this person is coming over for dinner tonight. And to hang out. With me. Because after years of torture we're now friends?

And I'm seeing this person through completely different eyes and in a whole different light and I'm kicking myself because this person has always been there, right under the surface buried behind the self-defenses of protective walls and no one ever tried to break through to find the true person who lies beneath. And I tried a few times way back when, but I was too proud and worried about self-preservation and rejection to keep trying, to attempt yet again to breakdown the façade that was only there for show. I should have kept trying and I shouldn't have given up.

Instead, I'm now in this weird, pseudo twilight, alternate parallel universe that makes me want to rip out my hair as I try to merge our past selves with our present and figure out what the hell is going on.

For instance:

Why am I jealous when another woman touches my friend?

The fact that the only things I truly really remember last night where my friend's arms around me and how they made me feel safe and protected...and possibly loved.

How when we touch I have to actively will myself to stop from shivering from the chills the touch elicits

A chaste kiss made me feel a burning desire and passion I haven't felt in years...or possibly ever.

And I know we're in this weird limbo stage where we met on a dating site, were supposed to have a date, but you blew me off, and here I am telling you I have these feelings for another person and I don't know what to do.

Anyways, thanks for listening,

Rachel

* * *

><p>Quinn laughed as she held her slack-jawed face in her hands and arched her eyebrows in disbelief, the irony of the situation hitting her hard. She had started out creating a fake dating profile and a fictional man to hurt the diva. Now, not only was Rachel falling for the blonde, but Quinn was also falling for Rachel, once again.<p>

Rereading the email, Quinn reminisced about her conflicted feelings for the diva that stemmed from her high school guilt. Quinn was at the top of the social ladder of the school and had the power to alter the hierarchy of the school. But, that would have brought about unwelcome questions as she would have defied the established pecking order. So instead, Quinn chose to humiliate the only person she ever truly wanted to get to know since it was much easier to torment and torture the outcast diva than actually confess to liking Rachel Berry. _Like_ liking Rachel Berry.

* * *

><p>As Quinn stepped into the elevator, she started counting aloud. "One-alligator, two-alligator, three-alligator..." Thirty-five alligators later and Quinn was knocking on Rachel's door.<p>

"It's unlocked!" came the muffled reply.

The blonde entered the apartment and followed the aroma of tomato sauce to the kitchen. "You know your apartment building as the slowest. Elevator. Ever," Quinn declared as she leaned against the kitchen's archway.

"Really? I haven't noticed since I usually take the stairs. I'm not lazy like you," Rachel teased, eliciting a laugh from the blonde.

"Hey... I thought we were going to order in?" Quinn questioned as she fully took in the state of the diva's small kitchen. The sink was piled with dishes, all of the available burners were in use on the stove and from the heat radiating from the small room, it also appeared that the oven was occupied, too.

"I thought I would surprise you. And offer this as just a small thank you for everything you did for me last night."

"But you didn't need to go to all this trouble. I didn't even know you cooked."

"I have an extremely varied set of skills and abilities that, since we are now friends, you will get to learn from firsthand experience."

"I bet you do," Quinn mumbled to herself, but Rachel's seemingly supersonic hearing detected her comment.

"What was that?" Rachel asked with a sly grin on her face.

Quinn bit her bottom lip in partial embarrassment before shaking her head, "Nothing. What can I do to help? Set the table? Start the dishes?"

* * *

><p>Dinner was delicious. Penne pasta with a simple, homemade sauce and tomato and cucumber salad. Since clearing the table, the duo had relocated to the couch and for the past hour had been watching a musical from Rachel's extensive film collection.<p>

They had started off on opposite ends of the couch, but since Rachel secretly wanted to touch Quinn, and Quinn knew that Rachel secretly wanted to touch her and Quinn had wanted to touch Rachel since in reality, high school, they slowly shifted their positions as the film progressed.

Quinn was using the coffee table as a foot stool and Rachel had eventually draped her legs over the blonde's lap, asking for permission first, of course, allowing her to fully stretch out on the length of the couch.

With the diva's legs in her lap, Quinn had freely drawn random designs and messages on the diva's hot skin with her fingers. Quinn had to hide her smirk as she watched Rachel's reactions to her touches in her periphery, and was delighted when she prompted small gasps to fall from the diva's lips.

Midway through the film, Quinn excused herself to use the bathroom and when she returned, she found the diva back on the left hand side of the couch. Even when Quinn sat back down and resumed her previous position and patted her lap, indicating the diva could return her legs, Rachel replied by shaking her head and muttering, "I'm good here, thanks."

Rachel couldn't admit what the blonde's delicate touches on her legs were doing to her insides and it was taking every ounce of her control to not reach out and trace Quinn's mouth with her own fingers, lips and tongue.

The rest of the film was spent in the first awkward silence of the whole evening, and Quinn inwardly scolded herself for taking advantage of Rachel's feelings by using inside information to try and sway the diva's affections.

As the film credits rolled, Quinn pushed off the couch and turned to the brunette. "Thanks for dinner, Rachel. But I, uh, should be heading out. Can't miss classes two days in a row now," she finished with a smile.

Rachel stood from the couch and walked Quinn to the door, mentally motivating and psyching herself up. Rachel snaked her arms up behind the blonde's neck and pulled her into a hug. "I know you'll probably get tired of me saying it, but thanks again for being here and taking care of me last night and for hanging out again tonight. It means...a great deal to me."

Quinn lifted her head from the crook of Rachel's neck and gently placed her forehead against the brunette's so she could look into those chocolate eyes. "Anytime, Rach," she barely husked out, their proximity overloading her senses. She was extremely grateful when Rachel unhooked her hands from behind her neck, glad that the action would put some much needed space between the pair.

But instead of breaking apart, Rachel's right hand fell to Quinn's hip as her left cupped the blonde's cheek. Rachel tilted her own chin, let her eyelids flutter closed and leaned in, connecting their lips.

Behind the darkness of her lids, Rachel saw the bursting light of the colors of the rainbow. She saw fucking fireworks that were accompanied by the flipping of her stomach.

Quinn tried not to move, not to reciprocate the kiss, as she worried that her previous actions had forced this display of affection. But Rachel's lips were soft, so soft as they eagerly explored her top and bottom lip, nipping lightly. Quinn sighed away her hesitation and pressed back against the diva, bringing her arms up to cradle around the diva's waist.

_Strong arms. Protective arms. _Rachel's insides hummed at the connection of Quinn's lips melding with her own, unraveling at her touch and the flashes of light continued to explode behind her closed lids. She flicked her tongue out, brushing along Quinn's bottom lip before deepening the kiss with a moan of desire.

The feel of Rachel's moan vibrated against the blonde's mouth and the sound caused Quinn's eyes to snap open, drop her hands to her sides and pull away.

_What the hell are you doing?_

Eyes still shut, Rachel whimpered at the loss of contact, wrinkling her brow in confusion.

"I-I, I can't. I can't do this."

At the sound of the door shuttering, Rachel's eyes opened. "What the..."

* * *

><p>Quinn was legitimately freaking out as she paced back and forth inside the elevator. Thirty-five alligators were more than she was mentally prepared to handle at the moment.<p>

She slumped back against the steel of the lift's walls, closing her eyes and willing herself to relax. But the instant her eyes were closed, the memory of only second before replayed in her mind. Her body was aflame with the want and need of desire. She missed those lips already, sliding against her own, Rachel's delicate fingers dancing over her hot skin, the diva's tongue that had... The blonde let out a shaky breath as her body involuntarily shivered.

"I need to go for a run. And then a shower. A cold, cold shower," Quinn nodded as she talked to herself, willing the elevator to hurry up so she could get out of the stifling space and away from the thoughts swirling throughout her head.

Finally, the elevator stopped its movement and Quinn pushed off the back wall, bringing her hands up to rub the stress from her face. As the doors opened, she absentmindedly stepped and slammed right into a waiting tenant with a thud.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry I wasn't paying attention. Are you okay?" she asked, removing her hands away from her face before gawking at the diva who was panting before her, surprisingly winded after sprinting down four flights of stairs.

"Slowest. Elevator. Ever. You told me yourself, remember?" Rachel stated between gulps of air before pushing the blonde back through the lift's still open doors.


	6. Chapter 6 Limbo

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note**: Let me begin by apologizing for the extended delay in posting. Real life demanded the majority of my attention these past two weeks. But to thank you for your patience, I'll actually be posting 3! parts of the story tonight (chapters 6, 7 and 8). I want to thank you all for sticking with this story, those who've reviewed, sent messages, favorited and set up alerts. A special thank you to **momo** who continues to send encouragement after each installment as well as **CannotBreathe**. Your kind words were simply awesome and I just hope that the rest of the story continues to meet expectations.

As always, I'd love to hear any all thoughts, comments and criticisms. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 6 – Limbo**

* * *

><p>Quinn hadn't been prepared for the force of Rachel's shove and caught off-guard, her lower back slammed into the metal railing that wound around three of the elevator's walls.<p>

"Son of a- Damn it, Rachel! That hur-"

But the blonde's yelp of pain was cut off as Rachel smashed their lips together again.

This kiss was very different from the tentative and really rather brief kiss that had been shared minutes ago in Rachel's apartment.

There was no hesitation behind this current kiss, at least not from Rachel. The brunette was instead forceful and rough, taking full advantage of Quinn's shock, and thus open mouth, deepening the kiss immediately.

And like before, Quinn lost herself in the sensations of Rachel and her own, repressed desire of nearly seven years. Seven fucking years of regrets and so much pent up emotion. Quinn poured out her feelings through the kiss as she once again surrendered to Rachel's touch, their tongues connecting, sliding against one another.

Hands invaded hair and skin and space as the duo pin-balled off the lift's walls in a passion-induced embrace, desperately trying to get as close to other girl in each other's respective arms as possible.

Rachel, finally having enough of the struggle for control and dominance, and again with startling strength, propelled Quinn into a corner of the lift. Hands on the blonde's shoulders, Rachel shoved Quinn down the wall a few inches to improve their current height disadvantage – she had foolishly run from her apartment barefoot and Quinn's boots had a respectable heel – before cupping the blonde's hips. She not only pinned the blonde to her, but successfully anchored her in place as well, keeping them connected and not giving Quinn the option to pull away this time.

Quinn had finally acquiesced to Rachel's demands of staying in place as the brunette's lips traveled from the blonde's mouth and began to navigate the expanse of her ivory skin.

As Rachel's trail of kisses continued down the column of Quinn's neck, the blonde proceeded to recline her head back against the wall, supplying greater access to her valleys and curves for the diva's eager mouth. Teeth scraped against her pulse point and Quinn threaded her hand into Rachel's lush locks, willing the diva to continue the ministrations she was currently performing on that oh so sensitive spot.

A guttural "fuck" escaped from Quinn's lips, the first word that had been spoken in minutes, as Rachel pulled the sensitive flesh of the blonde's neck with her teeth, sucking briefly before releasing with an audible 'pop' and smacking of her lips.

"You taste so good, Quinn," Rachel purred, drawing in a few much needed breaths as she rested her forehead against the blonde's chin. She stared hungrily at the blotch she had produced upon Quinn's perfect flesh, licked her lips and delved back in to investigate more territory in which to stake her claim and mark the blonde as hers.

But at the sound of hearing her own name drop from Rachel's lips, the haze of what Quinn could only categorize as unbridled teenage hormones seemed to lift, and the blonde's cognitive functions seemed to whir back to life.

Quinn was soon hyper aware of the movements of Rachel's hot breath, mouth and tongue along the expanse of her neck and collarbone, the brunette's hands that had finally left her hips and were sliding under the hem of her shirt, dancing up her sides to strum along the contours of her ribs. Quinn was suddenly very alert as to how Rachel's actions were making her feel not only physically, her center was throbbing and pleading for relief, but also emotionally, and soon enough the two sides were at war in her mind, each demanding that their needs be met.

As the reality of the situation sunk in, Quinn's emotions bested her passionate desires and past fantasies. She still didn't know what they hell they were doing, how she ended up flattened to the wall of an elevator, hands twisted in brunette curls and so weak in the knees she was sure the only reason was still even capable of standing was the muscular thigh wedged between her own legs; it was all wreaking havoc on her mental state.

"Rach..." Quinn wasn't surprised when the only response she received was a nip to her skin before the diva placed another searing kiss to her neck. She blinked back the tears threatening to fall. "Rachel..." a little more forceful this time but answered in a similar fashion.

Quinn finally removed her hand from Rachel's hair and slid it down to the nape of her neck, squeezing slightly in hopes of finally getting the diva's attention. "Rachel, look at me!"

The brunette raised her eyes, pupils blown to meet glass-covered hazel and tearstained cheeks. Rachel dropped her hand back to her side. Her eyes narrowed and she lightly shook her head as she continued to pant heavily, trying to make sense of the distressed expression gracing the blonde standing before her.

"Quinn?" she worried as she uncertainly raised her hand towards the blonde's face.

"No, Rachel. Stop. Just stop touching," Quinn uttered as she finally found the strength to rise up along the wall to her full height, creating not only physical distance between the pair.

At Quinn's tone and equally pained look, Rachel willingly backed away to opposite corner of the elevator, watching the blonde's tense shoulders noticeably relax in relief.

"Quinn?" Rachel's voice was trembling as her chin began to quiver and she felt the prickling annoyance of tears beginning to pool in her own eyes. "I don't know what I did, but if I did something wrong, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Rachel peered across the expanse of the elevator to the blonde, her head dipped, hands white-knuckled as they gripped the railing along the walls. "Quinn? Please, say something. I-"

Rachel's words were cut off when the blonde finally raised her head, cold hazel eyes meeting the warm chocolate brown for the briefest of seconds. Gone altogether were any signs of feelings, the blonde's face replaced with a mask lacking any kind of emotion. Any remaining breath was sucked out of Rachel's lungs as she took in the look that now decorated the blonde's features. This was not the Quinn from her apartment, the night before, when they met for coffee or even when she first showed up unannounced in her dressing room. This was reminiscent of high school Quinn, walls up and defenses in place.

"I need to go," Quinn explained as her eyes focused just to the right of Rachel's head, refusing to meet the pleading and concerned brown eyes, knowing that if she did she'd lose what little resolve she had left. "Don't stop me this time. I just-I need to be able to think and I can't think with you standing right in front of me when all I want to do is take you. Because that's what I've been doing for the past few years. I take things because I can, and then I use them and I toss them out like garbage. But I can't do that you, Rachel, because you're not trash. I am."

"Quinn, don't talk like that," Rachel was emboldened with the blonde's words and attempted to reach out once again.

"I said don't fucking touch me. Just let me go!" she bit out more forcefully than necessary as she reached for the 'Open Doors' button on the elevator's panel.

As the doors slid apart, Quinn paced to the front entrance as quickly as possible, left hand clamped to her mouth to muffle the sobs threatening to escape. As she finally felt the cool night air brush against her wet cheeks, she sank to her knees on the brick landing and cried into the night.

* * *

><p>Quinn had zoned out on the subway ride home, missing her stop by one station. Instead of making the walk of shame across the platform and waiting for a train headed back her direction, she opted to walk the few extra blocks to her apartment in hopes that the cooler weather would help to clear her head.<p>

But the weather was far from beneficial, and even though she would need to be up and preparing for Tuesday's classes in a matter of hours, Quinn needed to get rid of the tension coursing through her body.

She rifled through her drawers in search of a pair of running tights and jacket. As she weaved her apartment's keys into her trainer's laces, Quinn glanced to her iPod sitting on her desk. She elected to leave it at home so all of her senses could focus on her impending run and so that she could offer her full attention to her surroundings.

Taking the stairs so she could warm-up her muscles and do a couple of quick stretches along the way, she stepped out into the night once more, taking a few deep breaths and attempting to roll the tension off her shoulders, the place it habitually settled.

Quinn looked around the deserted street for a few moments, doing a couple last minute stretches before deciding on the safest, most well-lit route.

She padded off into the night, easing into her desired speed. She attempted to concentrate on her breathing but thoughts of Rachel continued to seep into her mind, so she increased her speed, determined to leave those thoughts behind her.

* * *

><p>Quinn's throat burned and her chest ached as she sucked in the cool air as she walked one more block to cool down and to try and shake the leaden feel from her limbs. Sweat was beginning to run down the sides of her face, and she was thankful her apartment building was only a few more steps away.<p>

Upon opening her door, Quinn went straight to the bathroom, stripping down immediately and stepping directly into the icy spray of the showerhead. She still needed to cool down in more ways than one.

After washing up, Quinn settled to the floor of the tub and closed her eyes, continuing to let the water numb her tired body.

This is why Quinn had sworn off relationships, especially people she was actually acquainted with in real life. They made her feel and feeling was complicated and messy and just ended in heartbreak. Quinn had had enough to those to last a lifetime.

* * *

><p>The blonde flopped her head to the side of her pillow once again and used it to muffle her groan of exasperation. She had been tossing and turning ever since crawling under the covers. Not only had her right hand begun to throb, the pain meds from earlier in the day wearing off combined with her overexertion during her midnight run made for a less than ideal healing regimen, the thoughts in her head refused to be quiet, her heart refusing not to be heard.<p>

The blonde rolled and removed her phone off her side table, 3:11am, and groaning rose from under the cover and padded out to her work space in the living room.

Sleep be damned.

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>to<strong>: Rachel Berry  
><strong>date<strong>: Oct 25, 2016 at 3:42 AM**  
>subject<strong>: re: I don't know where to start...

Rachel,

First off, let me express my feelings in regards the "limbo stage" you referred to, and I agree that I was a bit surprised when I received your email. But as I thought about my own feelings, I agree that as of right now we definitely serve one another best in the capacity of friendship. If you need someone to vent to or listen, I'll be here.

Also, I think you should patent those "good idea/bad idea" flags. Sort of like a visual for the metaphorical angels and devils of our conscience that sit on our shoulders and will us to do the "right" thing. I could have used a travel pair of those earlier tonight and maybe I wouldn't find myself in my current predicament. And speaking of predicaments, I'm truly grateful that you had kind and caring friends with you the other night.

In regards to your friend...how'd your dinner go?

I'll always listen,

J

* * *

><p>Quinn continued to sip her third cup of strong coffee after she hit send, lingering on the page for just a moment longer. Not only were Rachel and "Jack" in a state of limbo, but her and Rachel were as well. They had been developing a steady friendship, but now she didn't know where they stood or what to do next, which is why she had yet again taken the easy way out, using the cover of "Jack" as a crutch to be privy to Rachel's unfiltered thoughts.<p>

Taking another swallow of the liquid that would be the only reason she was able to function throughout the day, Quinn pushed aside any further thoughts of Rachel and opened up a new Word document to work on yet another class assignment.


	7. Chapter 7 Promises, Promises

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note I**: Let me begin by apologizing for the extended delay in posting. Real life demanded the majority of my attention these past two weeks. But to thank you for your patience, I'll actually be posting 3! parts of the story tonight (chapters 6, 7 and 8). I want to thank you all for sticking with this story, those who've reviewed, sent messages, favorited and set up alerts. A special thank you to **momo** who continues to send encouragement after each installment as well as **CannotBreathe**. Your kind words were simply awesome and I just hope that the rest of the story continues to meet expectations.

As always, I'd love to hear any all thoughts, comments and criticisms. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 7 – Promises, Promises**

* * *

><p>Avoiding her would protect them both. That's what Quinn kept telling herself as she ignored yet another call from Rachel.<p>

Quinn had been doing this for three days now, dismissing any and all calls and texts from the tiny diva. She presumed that after enough time had elapsed, Rachel would take the hint and accept the outcome.

Her phone vibrated on the ottoman (that served as a coffee table) yet again, indicating that she had a voicemail. Quinn groaned outwardly. She had just gotten back after her last class for the week and she was in no mood to deal with Rachel's persistence.

"_Quinn Fabray. Rude! It is simply not proper etiquette to repeatedly ignore a friend's numerous calls, texts and attempts at communication. I've gone from being angry and upset at your constant slighting of my attempts to reach out to you to actually being worried since I haven't heard from you in nearly a week. I'm not even sure if you made it safely home on Monday evening. If I don't hear back from you by my call time tonight, I'm tracking you down. I have my methods. I know...people. Please, just let me know you're okay. Please?"_

* * *

><p>After leaving yet another message for a particular blonde that was slowly driving Rachel insane, she placed another call.<p>

"Hello...Hi, yes it's Rachel...about tonight..."

* * *

><p>Having just finished up her shower and clad in her favorite pair of sweats and comfy tee, Quinn settled onto the cushions of her couch for a night of Netflix and Thai.<p>

She had gone for yet another run, what was quickly becoming a pattern when she felt overwhelmed, after listening to Rachel's latest voice message. For the few miles her legs would carry her, Quinn was learning to be able to push out all other thoughts from her mind and simply concentrate on the music blaring from her earbuds, her running form, or her consistent breathing.

She plucked her phone from the ottoman and was amazed to see that there were no missed calls or texts from the tiny diva, which was surprising because ever since Tuesday morning the calls and texts were being delivered nearly every hour if not more frequently. They were only ever put on hold during the nighttime hours as Rachel had so elegantly explained during one of her voicemails that _"...as a burgeoning Broadway star, I require nearly eight hours of uninterrupted sleep each night to be able to appropriately function the next day, so this will have to be my last communication of the evening, and unless I hear from you before 8am tomorrow, please be advised that I will continue to pester you until you succumb."_

Quinn dialed a number she knew by heart approximately one week after she moved to New York.

"Hi, Adi?...Hey, it's Quinn!...Ha, yes, the usual, how'd you know?...Great, see you soon."

* * *

><p>Rachel walked as quickly as her small frame could propel her, continuing to glance down at her phone to make sure she was still on the correct path to her destination. When she got to the stoop of her building's destination, she was surprised to hear a familiar voice coming from the call box.<p>

"_Adi?"_

"Yes, Quinn," answered a figure on the stoop's landing.

"_Thirteen minutes exactly. You truly amaze me. Door's open!"_

The apartment building's door buzzed, releasing the magnetic lock. As the delivery man opened the door, Rachel decided to press her luck.

"Excuse me, Adi is it?"

A short, older Asian gentleman turned towards the small brunette. "Yes?"

"Is this delivery for Quinn Fabray?" The man narrowed his eyes as Rachel stepped forward, entering the building behind the man. "I only ask because I was just headed up to visit Quinn and can deliver that for you. How much does she owe?" Rachel asked as she sifted for her wallet inside her bag.

"I think I'll deliver this in person," he responded, pressing the elevator's call button.

"Please, Adi? We...Quinn and I had a bit of a fight and now she's completely ignoring me, which is absolutely infuriating, frustrating and just down right, rude, don't you think? And all because of a stupid little kiss, well I guess quite a few kisses actually, and some minor groping," at this statement the man's eyes grew larger as his eyebrows threatened to reach his hairline, "and I suppose I just misread the signals or we had some kind of miscommunication and now she won't talk to me at all and we seriously need to talk about this because I miss her. I miss my friend."

As the elevator 'dinged' it's arrival, Adi looked from the brown paper bag containing Quinn's order to the pleading brown eyes of the short girl standing in front of him.

"Quinn's a good customer. You don't hurt her." He handed over the bag over to Rachel's eagerly awaiting hands. "Order total was $13.99, but Quinn's a big tipper."

Rachel pulled two twenty-dollar bills from her wallet and handed them to Adi accompanied by one of her trademark smiles.

* * *

><p>Hearing the knock on her partially opened door, Quinn absentmindedly answered, "Door's open, Adi, come on in," from her position in her kitchen. This was her and Adi's routine.<p>

She walked out carrying her plate and cutlery along with her bottle of water and setting it down on the table, Quinn finally looked up to greet her old friend. "Just let me get my wallet and..." her words tapered out as she watched Rachel shut the apartment door, holding up the delivery with a cautious grin.

"Adi, my how you've changed since last Friday," Quinn drawled, unamused.

Rachel approached and dropped the bag onto the dining table. "Quinn. We need to talk. Please talk to me."

"How'd you even know where I live?"

"I told you I knew people. I've got some friends who owed me favors."

"What'd you do? Call one of my past or current employers?" The lack of response gave the Quinn her answer. "And speaking of employers, shouldn't you be at your show?" the blonde continued to deflect, leaning down and resting her arms on the back of a chair.

The diva dropped her eyes and scuffed her shoe along the wood floor. "I called in sick."

"Yet you're here looking perfectly healthy."

"Thank you for that astute observation and diagnosis, Dr. Quinn, medicine woman," Rachel replied as she met Quinn's hazel eyes with a certifiable twinkle in her own brown.

"Seriously, Rachel?" Quinn asked incredulously. Rachel just stared back, her eyes smiling. "Well, this has been great fun. How much do I owe you?"

"What?"

"For dinner? I know that I'm Adi's favorite customer but there's no way you gave you this meal for free," Quinn stated as she pulled bills from her wallet.

"I don't want your money, Quinn."

"What do you want?" came the loaded reply.

Rachel gazed at the blonde standing a mere five feet away, though the distance felt as if they were separated by so much more, Quinn's face unreadable. "I...I want you to talk to me. I want you to stop ignoring me."

Quinn turned on her heel, strolling back into the kitchen. Rachel, not pleased that she was still being ignored continued, "I'm mad at you."

"Well that makes two of us. Glad we can agree on something," Quinn replied as she exited the kitchen with an additional table setting and bottle of water. She pulled out a chair and began to serve the dinner, evenly distributing the dish on the two plates. "You gonna join me?" Quinn questioned as she motioned to the empty chair.

"Is that-" Rachel inquired as she shrugged off her jacket.

"Drunken noodles. Basically just a veggie stir fry with rice noodles, though it can be quite spicy. So I think it should meet your dietary restrictions, Berry."

"Oh, so we've regressed back to Berry now, have we?"

"Just sit down and eat. You're ruining my favorite meal of the week," Quinn huffed as shoved her first forkful in her mouth.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Quinn reveling in what she was sure would be a short-lived peace while Rachel scanned the blonde's living space. She noted it was sparsely decorated and there were actually quite a few cardboard boxes and plastic containers shoved against the far wall. Besides a corner desk that housed a computer and looked well-lived in with numerous papers and books scattered across the surface as well as the table they were currently sitting at, the only other items in the room were an apartment-sized couch, ottoman and wall-mounted TV.

Quinn could feel Rachel's eyes on her. She hoped that if she continued to fight her gaze, the blonde could prolong the silence, but the diva had other plans.

"Did you just move?" she asked after taking a swig of water and nodding her head towards the wall of boxes.

"In May," the blonde replied, still focusing on her dwindling meal.

"As in five months ago?" Rachel gaped in astonishment.

Quinn ticked off on her fingers, "Yeah, I guess so."

"And you're still not unpacked?"

"I don't really see the need."

"Don't you ever have company and friends come over to hang out? And don't they question why you still have boxes of your belongings lining your wall after weeks of living here?" the diva continued to pry.

Quinn finally raised her eyes from her plate, her meal finished and thus there was nothing left there to demand her attention. "Well, besides the movers, the guys who delivered the most of the furniture, the building's maintenance staff, the landlord and Adi, I think you're the only other person who's ever been here."

"Oh."

The blonde pushed back against her chair and cringed, not only at the noise it made sliding across the wood floor, but also the tension that she had originally released during her run was coming back with a vengeance and settling between her shoulder blades along with prickles of her self-hatred that were climbing the rungs of her spine.

Quinn all but threw her dirtied dishes into the sink, turning on the water and letting the pressure from the spout rinse them clean as she proceeded to get lost in her own thoughts.

She was supposed to be rid of these feelings. Rachel wasn't supposed to be here and they weren't supposed to be talking. Rachel wasn't supposed to be demanding to know why Quinn kept the majority of her life packed away, ready to move at a moment's notice.

Quinn had gotten used to keeping her life in boxes, keeping everything compartmentalized, forcing certain objects, wants and desires of her life from ever mixing together. Compartmentalization reduced her anxiety and simplified her life. She needed the simplicity to hold it all together.

And, Quinn hadn't had a true home in years. She had been kicked out of the only home she ever truly knew at the age of sixteen, shuffled around to various "friends", before returning to her mother's house, which of course never felt like home ever again, and then she had gone off to school. The blonde had lived in a dorm her first year and subsequently moved each year after the fact, living with various friends in different apartments and houses off-campus. Each year and with each move Quinn had shed more of her past life, her Lima life had slowly relinquished to trashcans and dumpsters.

When she had started college, all of Quinn's possessions had originated from Lima, but now as she gazed out through the kitchen's doorway, her eyes fell to the tiniest cardboard box, the only one labeled 'HS'.

Besides that small box and the frustrating and nosy (and beautiful) brunette still sitting at her kitchen table, there was nothing Lima-related left in her life. However, the problem was that Rachel wasn't just fitting into the Lima part of Quinn's life anymore, she wasn't staying in her designated compartment that Quinn could push aside and to the back of her mind. Oh, no. That diva was seeping into everything the blonde tried so desperately to keep separate. She had invaded her work, her personal life and now the closet thing she had to a home in the past seven years.

"Quinn?" The blonde jumped, startled by the diva's voice drawing her out of her own thoughts. "I'm sorry for scaring you, but I'm fairly certain your plate is clean by now, seeing as you have been rinsing it for the past five minutes."

Bewildered, the blonde looked at Rachel. Had she really been lost in her thoughts for that long?

"Here," Rachel motioned, brushing Quinn aside from the edge of the sink. "Let me do the dishes. It's the least I can do since I crashed your favorite meal of the week," she explained, adding soap to a sponge and quickly making work of the two plates, knives and forks in the sink before setting them aside in the drying rack. She turned from her work to find intense hazel eyes watching her.

"Quinn," she tried again.

"How much do I owe you?"

Rachel pushed past the stubborn blonde, sauntering over the couch before taking a seat indian-style and patting the cushion next to her. She looked squarely at Quinn, refusing to back down. "I already told you talking could be my payment."

Resigned to the fact that nothing she could say or do would convince the stubborn diva to leave, Quinn dragged a chair from the dining table across the room. She propped her long limbs across the corner of the ottoman. She needed to keep her distance before she spilled anymore of her secrets.

"I still can't believe you played hooky and missed your show tonight. To stalk me," Quinn challenged with her characteristic raised brow.

"I'd hardly call this stalking. Unwarranted solicitation, possibly," Rachel offered along with a warm smile. "And anyway, I think you're worth it."

Quinn shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I'm definitely not worth you risking your dream, Rachel."

"I didn't risk my dream..."

"Really? What if there was someone important in the audience tonight? What if, um, Barbra, or ah, Liza...Bernadette," Quinn bit her bottom lip in thought as she flipped through the rolodex of her limited Broadway knowledge, "or some big name producer that could realize your star potential were in the audience? And if I remember correctly, it was only a few weeks ago when you were trying to kick me out of your apartment saying how you couldn't afford to miss yet another performance. And I would think that mantra would be especially important now seeing as you're no longer a swing or understudy."

Quinn was entertained as she watched the internal struggle play out across the diva's features.

With a slight crease across her brow Rachel acknowledged, "Those are indeed excellent arguments, Quinn. However, considering the fact that I recently accepted a lead role in a new workshop, your concerns for my career are unnecessary and thus, wouldn't have altered my decision."

"Are you serious about the workshop?" Quinn dropped her feet to the floor in excitement.

Rachel couldn't suppressed the grin the enveloped her face. "We're still working out the specifics, but it's basically a done deal. Though, besides my agent and the individuals involved in the project, you're the only one I've told about this. I haven't even told my dads. So mum's the word," the diva emphasized by locking an imaginary key in her lips before tossing said key over her shoulder.

"That's awesome, Rach. I'm really proud of you. I...I can't think of anyone more deserving than you," the blond enthused.

"Thanks, Quinn. That means a lot, especially coming from you."

Quinn just nodded in return, Rachel's comment inadvertently dredging up ghosts of high school past and all the hurt associated with them.

An awkward silence simmered up over the next minutes with Quinn glaring at the tiny cardboard box labeled 'HS' and Rachel seemingly enamored with the cuticles on her hands.

"Are you gay?" the brunette popped the bubble of silence that had formed.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you gay?" Rachel repeated. "I mean...I'm just trying to figure out what I did wrong the other night and since you refuse to talk to me about it, I've simply been left to my own devices and my head is currently a very confusing place and I'm tired of being confused. We've blurred the line of intimacy and friendship and maybe I just misread signals. But I thought from what you said the other night, well I guess you didn't really say but rather implied that you were gay. And again, I don't know what I did wrong when I kissed you, especially if you're gay-"

Quinn raised her hand to silence the rambling word vomit spewing forth from the brunette's mouth, hoping that the atypical nervousness she had heard in Rachel's voice accounted for her stupidity.

"Do you realize what you were just implying?" she pointedly asked, looking at the diva with raised, questioning eyebrows. "You're saying, that just because I might be gay, that it's okay for you to kiss me? That's like claiming that because you're probably straight that the douche with the broken nose from the club had a right to force himself on you."

"Quinn, that's not what I meant! Stop twisting my words. I just don't understand what I did wrong. And it's not like I was forcing myself on you. You...you kissed me back," Rachel countered as Quinn pursed her lips and looked away. "Just stop being so defensive and just-just let me in! Talk to me!"

Quinn rotated her body so she was looking directly into Rachel's eyes, trying to find strength in her for the words she wanted to say. But Quinn had only now realized in that moment that she had never actually admitted the fact to another person besides herself. Sure, others had asked over the years, especially college classmates whom demanded she label herself, but she had been able to either ignore such questions or give ambiguous answers such as, "I'm here with you, right?" or she simply went home with them. That usually shut them and answered all questions. Maybe she could still get away without saying those words out loud.

"Yes."

Rachel was confused. She didn't remember asking a question... "Yes, what?"

"Who's on first, Rachel. Jesus!" Quinn exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air, whether out of frustration or desperation for the brunette to just understand, she wasn't sure.

"Now I'm confused."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Yes, Rachel, I'm gay!" Quinn shouted loud enough that she was sure her next door neighbors, Alden and Josh, would leave rainbow cupcakes on her doormat. But saying those words aloud for the first time sucked all the air from the blonde's lungs and she had to will herself to keep it together.

Failing to realize the significance of Quinn's confession, Rachel surged ahead with her questioning. "So you date women exclusively?"

Quinn glared. "I don't date, and what wasn't clear about my previous answer?" was pushed out through clenched teeth. She was moments away from emotional collapse and needed the spotlight off of her, the sooner the better.

"What do you mean you don't date-"

"What about you, Rachel? Are you gay or just a little bicurious?"

"Quinn, I don't really appreciate your tone. And, I-I don't know. I've never been with anyone besides Finn. Until a week ago, I've only been interested or had relationships with the opposite sex."

"And now?"

"I don't really understand society's need to define every single minutia of our lives. Labels, schmabels."

"Oh my god. You are so frustrating! You refuse to define your own sexuality yet you just forced me to label myself as gay! Do you realize I've never actually told anyone that before!" Quinn was up and out of her chair, hand to her forehead and pacing the room.

"Wait. What? What do you mean you've never told anyone?"

"It's incredibly easy to get through life without ever having to brand yourself as one thing or another. I had enough of that back in high school, Rachel, so I've worked really hard these past few years to keep people from categorizing me and determining who I should be."

"You never told anyone you were gay? Oh my goodness! Is that why you were so upset the other night? Was that your first 'gay' kiss? I'm so sorry!"

"Fucking unbelievable," Quinn muttered as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "That was hardly my first 'gay' kiss, Rachel," the blonde mocked her finger quotes. "Just because I never actually said that I was gay to another person, doesn't mean I didn't act on those feelings. And for the love of all that is good and holy stop apologizing. I...enjoyed the kiss. The kisses."

"Oh, that's right. The girl from the club. The one at the bar."

Quinn had to laugh. Of course Rachel would remember that interaction now and completely disregard the latter part of her previous statement. "Yeah, that was Kay. One of my many conquests."

"Conquests?" the diva asked with a smirk on her lips.

"Yes, you know me. Slutty McSlutterson. Slutting it up for all the ladies," Quinn teased as she finally collapsed next to Rachel on the couch in an emotionally tired heap. "I don't date, Rachel, because dating and being in relationship requires me to feel something deeper than just attraction and lust, and those feelings are just too," Quinn bobbled her head from side to side, searching for the right word, "complex, I guess. I want my life to be simple and dating and relationships are anything but."

Rachel waited a few moments before cautiously reaching and taking Quinn's right hand in hers. She was very conscious to the fact that the blonde had been avoiding any type of physical contact all evening. "It looks like your hand healed up well. You followed Papa Bear's advice?" She brushed her thumbs over the pail flesh that only had a hint of light bruising remaining, circling the palm and tracing straight lines to fingertips.

"Yeah," Quinn breathed out a satisfied sigh, internally questioning why she had denied herself the opportunity to be touched by the brunette up until this point when such a simple gesture could ignite these types of sensations throughout her body. "Ice buckets to reduce the swelling and pain meds. Good like new and ready to punch the next asshat who so much as looks at you the wrong way," she stressed by forming her hand into a fist. Rachel laughed and continued to lightly stroke the hand in her grasp.

They sat in a comfortable silence, the first of the night, for a few minutes before Quinn raised her head from Rachel's shoulder where it had settled.

"Rach?"

"Hmm?"

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to want to, but what happened between you and Finn?"

Rachel's hand movements, which now had traveled from massaging just Quinn's right hand to her whole right arm, stilled for a moment as she took a deep breath. As she began talking, and much to Quinn's delight, she started rubbing Quinn's hand again.

"Did you keep in touch with anyone from high school when we all went off to college?"

"Sort of for the first couple of years, but not so much now," came the blonde's muffled reply. She had relocated her head back to Rachel's shoulder.

"Well, long-distance is never easy so we had our struggles due to lack of communication, jealousy, lying, Facebook pictures that would be posted after a crazy party. Accusations of infidelity, et cetera. Then this past summer after graduation, Finn actually sort of moved out here for a couple of months. We were going to try and make it work, and it honestly did for awhile."

"Did you live together?"

"We actually did not and I'm so thankful for refusing to back down on that decision. Finn of course just wanted to move in to my apartment, but after our past history, I was more than a bit hesitant. Luckily, Nate and Tom needed to rent out their second bedroom in their loft so Finn was able to move in there. We saw each other constantly and seemed to rebuild what we had lost over time. And just when I thought things couldn't be better, I found out he had been cheating on me. For well over a month. With one of the chorus girls."

"I think I just found who my next punching victim should be..."

Rachel smiled at the gesture. "If he ever has the audacity to show up again after the last stunt he pulled to try and apologize and win me back, I'll gladly take you up on that offer."

"What did he try to do to win you back?" Quinn probed, still unsure how anyone would ever think to cheat on Rachel in the first place.

"It was like Glee Club all over again. You should have seen it, Quinn! Horrible dancing and a mismatched mash-up along with flowers. Carnations, Quinn. Carnations. And he did this at the theatre in front of nearly all the cast members."

"Shit."

"To say I was livid would be an understatement. And then on top of it all, when I rejected his apology yet again, Molly informed me that he left with his chorus girl mistress and actually moved in with her since, of course, Nate and Tom threw his ass out on the street. Last I heard he's back in Ohio now working at Burt's garage."

"And you never cheated on him? After six years of pretty much being together and knowing that he was probably fooling around behind your back all throughout college, you never once retaliated?"

"The only time I cheated on him was in high school with Puck, and that was just kissing, more of a lapse in logic than outright cheating, is really how I tried to rationalize it back then. Once I was out here in New York and at school, I was honestly too busy and focused on classes and trying to land roles or hit up open mic nights to really worry about actively pursuing anything outside of Finn. It was an easy routine to fall back on with our history."

Quinn nodded silently against Rachel's shoulder. There was a question on the tip of her tongue and she let it roll around in her mouth for a few minutes before finally gathering the courage. "So I'm the first girl that you've kissed?"

"Yes, Quinn. You're my first and only experience into the foray of lesbianism." The diva chuckled lightly before her mind drifted back to the night she had found out about Finn's infidelity and how Molly and Briana had rallied around her in support. When Finn had had tried to enter their shared dressing room to apologize, Molly had chased him away and Briana had made her move. That kiss had shocked Rachel and completely caught her off-guard, especially due to her already stunned state in regards to Finn's manwhorish ways. So no, she didn't feel like she was lying to Quinn because Briana's error in judgment meant nothing to Rachel, the older girl's feelings were definitely not returned. It was unimportant, it didn't count.

Rachel could feel Quinn's jaw working against her shoulder, clenching and grinding just as it had minutes before when the blonde was pondering her question. The diva smiled.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"What is it?"

The blonde thought only for a brief moment before spilling her worry. "This," Quinn gestured to their entwined hands, the lack of space between their bodies and Rachel's continued light touches along the blonde's right side, "scares the hell out of me. It's a lot more than you realize, I think, and even though this is all knew for you, having feelings for another woman, this is not new to me by any means." That statement was only a half-truth, too, since Rachel wasn't privy to knowledge of how deep and far into the past Quinn's affections originated.

Rachel hummed her understanding before adding, "This is new, you're right. And right now, can this just be us...enjoying each other's company?"

Quinn laughed at the phrasing and though that line of thought wouldn't work in the long run, she refused to allow Rachel to just become another one of her faceless bar babes. It would work for right now since she was indeed enjoying the diva's company.

"Rachel?" She lifted her head and shifted to meet questioning brown eyes. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

A small smile formed on the brunette's lips as her eye lids slid closed in anticipation. Rachel shuddered when she was gifted with the reconnection of Quinn's lips. At first just a delicate graze, Rachel soon found herself lost in the languid pace and sensations of pulls and tugs of lips and tongue as Quinn brought her hands up to cup and cradle Rachel's cheeks. How the brunette had gone the past four days without this connection, she was unsure, but in this moment she had no problem giving full and complete control to blonde hovering above her.

The kiss was over too soon and as the blonde pulled away, Rachel reached out in protest. "No, come back," her forehead creased in worry.

Quinn realized too late that her actions appeared to mirror her same foolishness from Monday, and she brought the thumbs up to the diva's eyes to brush away the tiny tears that had already formed. "I'm not running away this time, Rach. No need to chase me. I just need to stop myself now, otherwise I won't be able to adequately behave like a proper lady should," she offered with a shy smile.

"Promise?"

"Promise what?"

"That you won't run away from me again. That you won't walk away and shut me out. That you won't stop returning my calls and texts."

"Promise. Sealed with a kiss." Quinn pecked Rachel's lips. "But now, you need to head home since you're 'sick' and all and need to rest up for tomorrow's shows." She pulled the brunette up to a standing position. "Two options. I can pay you back for dinner by sending you home in a cab, or we can walk to the subway. Pick your poison."

"If we walk, would it be alright if I wanted to hold your hand?"

"If you'd like."

"Then let's head out."

* * *

><p>After arriving back to her apartment from dropping Rachel off at the subway's entrance where the diva had demand not one, but four goodnight kisses, Quinn took stock of her bare living space. Her gaze drifted over to the abandoned boxes that lined the wall.<p>

Quinn needed to stop avoiding her past regrets and memories and finally confront and deal with them, especially since Rachel Berry was proof that things from her past could improve with time.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note II<strong>: Hope you all really enjoyed this installment. This was by far my favorite chapter I've written yet.


	8. Chapter 8 Mischief Night

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note I**: Let me begin by apologizing for the extended delay in posting. Real life demanded the majority of my attention these past two weeks. But to thank you for your patience, I'll actually be posting 3! parts of the story tonight (chapters 6, 7 and 8). I want to thank you all for sticking with this story, those of who've reviewed, sent messages, favorited and set up alerts. A special thank you to **momo** who continues to send encouragement after each installment as well as **CannotBreathe**. Your kind words were simply awesome and I just hope that the rest of the story continues to meet expectations.

As always, I'd love to hear any all thoughts, comments and criticisms. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 8 – Mischief Night**

* * *

><p>"Hello?" came the yawned and groggy reply.<p>

"_Quinn Fabray! You promised me just last night that you would stop ignoring my calls and texts, yet I've been trying to contact you all afternoon and evening and never received a reply!"_

The blonde winced as she pulled the receiver's speaker away from her ear. That diva sure knew how to project when she wanted to, but luckily her voice had actually helped to awaken Quinn from her sleep-induced haze.

"I'm sorry. It was just that I had a super busy day and I knew you had two shows and I didn't want to interrupt your preparations. I promise it wasn't intentional."

"_Well, we can possibly discuss that in additional detail after you buzz me in. I'm almost to your building."_

"What? Why are you coming here?" Quinn was definitely wide awake now and for the first time noticed the background chatter that was drifting through their phone call. She could hear Rachel talking to someone else.

"_...yes, I'm going to ask her. I'm sure she'll yes. No, you can't come up. Damn it, Nate, stay there...Hey, sorry, you still there?"_

"Yeah..."

"_That's me buzzing. Little pig, little pig, let me in! For real. It's freezing out here."_

* * *

><p>Rachel was met at the elevator by a scowling Quinn Fabray accompanied by disheveled blonde locks and only clad in baggy athletic shorts and a tight, racerback tank.<p>

"You look hot, Fabray," Rachel chimed as she ignored the characteristic arched brow and partially smacked and grabbed the blonde's ass as she made her way to the apartment's door.

"Are you drunk?" Quinn asked as she rubbed her hand across her stinging cheek and willed her body to keep the nearly instantaneous arousal from Rachel's touch at bay.

"Just a bit a tipsy, really. Normal after show drinks, nothing special."

"Fine, well you better have gotten here by cab. I told you last night I didn't want you walking the route from the subway by yourself."

"I remember and I did. Nate and Tom are actually downstairs waiting for me."

"Okay...and you're here why?"

Rachel swung the small duffle she had been carrying in her hand like a pendulum, attracting Quinn's attention. "As you know, Monday is Halloween but since we all have to work come Tuesday, our annual party's being thrown tomorrow in honor of Mischief Night at Nate and Tom's loft. And you're accompanying me outwardly as friends, and just between us, more of a secret date of sorts if you will."

"I am, am I?"

"Yes, you are. You have no choice. I'm the diva and I get my way." She flashed her Rachel Berry mega-watt smile and finished with a flourish of her hand. "Now I realize you are not as fortunate as myself who had Monday off since you have classes, so I stopped by tonight, and the reason I've been trying to call you all day, to give you fair warning to get your work done extra early tomorrow so I have your full attention at the party. And also, to discuss costumes."

"Costumes?" the blonde attempted to blink away the sleep in her eyes.

"Yes, Quinn, costumes. Try and keep up. I had the brilliant idea that we could go as a famous duo or pair, but then as we were having drinks, Nate came up with something more...perfect. We just had to stop by my apartment first to pick up supplies." She zipped open the duffle and deposited its contents on the dining table. "So this will be your costume, and now we just have to figure out what we can use to recreate mine."

Quinn continued to stare at the articles of clothing that lay scattered across the dark wooden surface as Nate and Rachel's idea slowly dawned on her. "But, Rachel...that's..."

"I know. Perfect, right? Now, you don't happen to still have anything related to..."

"Actually, you might be surprised…" Quinn motioned for Rachel to follow her to the wall of boxes.

* * *

><p>"After you, Quinn," Rachel swept her hand towards the staircase.<p>

"No, no I insist you take the lead, Rachel. You know the way after all?"

"Are you sure it's not because you want to ogle my ass in this skirt? Fulfill some high school fantasy of yours?" Rachel mentioned offhandedly, but when Quinn's eyes were indeed just staring at her ass, she wondered... "Fabray! My eyes are up here. Now, answer my question."

"You're being pretty demanding. Getting into character already?"

"Stop avoiding the question..."

"Of course not. We didn't get along in high school, remember? So how could I have a fantasy," Quinn lied before bounding up the stairs so she could hide her reddened cheeks from the inquisitive diva. "Are you coming?" she shouted down from the first landing when she noticed the brunette had not begun their ascent up to her friends' loft. "Now who's ogling...Rachel, wipe the drool from your mouth."

"I think you were right, Quinn. That skirt really is too short."

"What? You told me not even half an hour ago that it covered enough!"

"Well, that was before I saw you elevated. Let's just forget about this party and go back to my place..."

"Rachel," Quinn warned. On the walk to the subway the other evening, Quinn had laid down some simple ground rules for their current non-relationship when Rachel got a little handsy during her third goodnight kiss.

"Right, I know. Just let me lead the way."

* * *

><p>The duo had only been at the Mischief Night party for a few minutes and were already being questioned about their costumes of choice.<p>

"You have got to be kidding me, Rachel. You actually dressed like that all throughout high school?" Harold chided jokingly.

The brunette hid her ever reddening face in her hands. Quinn couldn't suppress her laughter any longer. "Actually this isn't nearly as bad as it could be," Quinn indicated the argyle sweater vest she was currently donning over a short sleeved, white button-up. "Lots of her sweaters used to have animals. I specifically remember there being rabbits and an atrocious looking owl on a couple of the more memorable pieces."

Rachel looked at Quinn in astonishment. Even she didn't remember her own articles of clothing with that much detail.

"Plus, Rachel was kind enough to not force me to wear knee high socks tonight. And honestly, her fashion sense did improve a bit over the years. It's just unique. Part of what makes Rachel...Rachel." The blonde flashed the brunette a shy smile and Rachel found her face reddening yet again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

"And, Quinn. Your coach really made you wear that uniform daily?" Leslie questioned.

"Mmhmm. We each had three sets and were not only required to wear them throughout the school day, but also for practice, which meant we all had a pretty hefty dry cleaning bill."

"Well, I must say it looks great on you, Rach," Tom offered and Rachel gave an approving twirl for the compliment. "Ooh, and you even wore the spanks!"

"Of course I did, it's not every day I get to dress up as the head cheerleader, isn't that right, Fabray," Rachel attempted to arch her left brow as high as possible.

Quinn had to bite her bottom lip to stifle her laugh from watching Rachel's antics before shyly replying, "Yes, Rachel."

They looked at one another across the room for a few seconds before dissolving in laughter.

"I was going to try and attempt one of your trademarked rants there for a second, Rach, but I just didn't think I could do it justice," Quinn teased.

"Maybe you'll be able find some inspiration throughout the night as you really get into character," the brunette bantered back.

"As much as this walk down memory lane has been enjoyable for the rest of us, ladies, it's time for the 5th Annual Halloween slash Mischief Night Tournament of Champions to begin!" Nate shouted as yells of excitement broke out amongst the group of friends.

"As you may recall, last year's game of choice was Trivial Pursuit, with the overall victors being none other than our resident diva, Rachel Berry, and dance captain extraordinaire, Briana Crosby. Quinn, as the newest member of our merry band of misfits, it's your duty to choose this year's game. Please pull a slip of paper from the hat," Nate produced a fedora from behind his back and Quinn quickly fished out a single slip, "and hand it back to me...nicely done, Quinn, excellent form," he teased. "Drum roll, please," the boy waited until all the friends were either smacking their thighs or stomping their feet. "Ladies and gentleman, this year's Tournament of Champions game will be...TABOO! Partner up!"

Quinn immediately looked over to her right were Rachel had been standing, but the only friend that seemed to be unhappy about the blonde's reappearance at such a gathering had already commandeered Rachel's attention. That bitch, Briana.

"Ready to reclaim our trophy this year, Rach?"

"Actually, Briana, I was hoping to partner with Quinn tonight."

Hearing her name, Quinn's ears perked up and she craned her neck to try and find Rachel's eyes, hoping to nonverbally communicate that she did wish to be partners with the diva.

"But, Rachel, we have a title to uphold," Briana protested.

"Briana, you're partners with me this year! Come sit your ass down!" Molly shouted from across the room.

The dance captain first turned her glare towards Molly before she fixated the pointed look at Quinn, who nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders even though she was inwardly doing a happy dance of triumph.

As Briana stalked across the living room to sit next to her newly acquired partner, Rachel silently mouthed "thank you" to Molly before sharing a grin with Quinn.

* * *

><p>"Final round and it all comes down to you two," Nate intoned, pointing his fingers at Rachel and Quinn. You only need three correct answers in thirty seconds to win and beat the adorably engaged couple of Leslie and Harold. But, if you can actually manage to get six correct answers, you'll surpass the overall top score that was ever achieved by none other than Rachel and Briana nearly two years ago. So, I believe its Rachel's turn to give the clues, Molly's keeping time and I've got the buzzer all set to. Ready, ladies?"<p>

Quinn rolled her neck and cracked her knuckles while Rachel took a couple of deep breaths to steady her nerves. Brown eyes locked with hazel as they nodded in encouragement to one another.

"We're ready when you are, Nate."

"One, two, three...GO!"

Rachel flipped over the first card and was instantly grateful that she knew Quinn had been a closeted Potterhead in high school. Though she took the book jackets off the hardcover volumes, one quick glance from a well-trained eye would have verified the book's true origin.

"9 and ¾..."

"Platform!"

"Yes!" Rachel quickly flipped to the next card. "Oh, umm...your favorite meal of the week!"

"Thai!"

"More!"

"Thailand!"

"Yes!" Rachel pumped her fist in the air while simultaneously turning over the next Taboo word. Should could barely contain her laughter when she saw the correct answer. "Why I had trouble climbing the stairs tonight..."

Quinn quirked her brow at the brunette, wondering if she was really implying...

"You're wasting time, Fabray! Don't overthink it!"

"My mini-skirt?" The group of friends shared some confused and questioning glances with one another at the blonde's answer.

"Hell yeah!" Rachel knew they had clinched this year's title, but she wanted to go for the gold.

Flipping over the next card, Rachel shot a pre-celebratory fist into the air, knowing they had this clue in the bag, "Our duet featured a mash-up of a song from-"

"West Side Story," Quinn responded as a dreamy look overtook her features, causing butterflies to erupt in Rachel's stomach and momentarily causing her to lose focus.

"10 seconds remaining!" Molly shouted.

As she flipped over the next card, Rachel was temporarily stumped until she remembered four particularly lovely goodbye kisses from the other evening. "I'm not allowed to walk here alone from your place."

"The subway," Quinn supplied with a goofy grin.

Turning over the last card, air seemed to rush through Rachel's ears, drowning out all other sounds as she saw the final word. "MY METAPHOR!"

"Oh, shit. I-I know this."

The rest of the friends gaped at Quinn in bewilderment. Everyone knew this.

"Three, two..." Molly counted down as Briana smirked a satisfied smile that her and Rachel's record would remain intact.

"Gold. Gold Stars."

"Time's up."

Before Quinn could react, she had an armful of screeching diva and soon the rest of their friends were joining in the celebration as well. Someone had even switched the iPod shuffle playlist to Queen's "We Are the Champions" as Rachel hoisted the makeshift trophy of superglued and bedazzled alcohol bottles above her head.

"That was truly impressive, you two."

"Thanks, Kenzie. Maybe channeling each other's past selves really helped us get into each other's heads tonight? What do you think, Quinn?" Rachel asked as she draped her arm across the blonde's shoulder, tugging her close to her side.

"Yeah, maybe this whole role playing thing is good for us?" Quinn flirted.

"Well, speaking of getting into character," Briana sullenly piped up from couch, "Shouldn't you be hurling insults and derogatory nicknames, Rachel? And shouldn't that sweater have some slushie stains on it, or possibly some ice chips in your hair, blondie?"

Rachel's hand dropped back to her side and she incredulously stared at her friend in shock while a stunned silence fell over the rest of the room.

"What? Don't look at me like that. The rest of you are all thinking the same thing, but you're all cowards and won't say anything. She treated you like shit, Rachel, and now you're acting like the past few years of your life never happened. How just over a month ago you didn't want to throw her out of our dressing room! And now you want to invite her to become friends with the rest of us? The people that helped build you back up after that bitch tore you down?"

"Briana," Nate warned.

"I-I..." Rachel had never heard Quinn's voice tremble like it was at that moment, "I'm going to get something to drink from the kitchen," the blonde barely mumbled before she basically ran from the room.

"Why-What…I can't even..." Rachel tried to start her sentence, begin her tirade three times but she was shaking from head to foot with a rage she had never felt.

* * *

><p>Rachel found Quinn sitting on top of the kitchen's small island, head bowed and in her hands. She took both of Quinn's hands and forced her chin up to meet her eyes. She wasn't surprised when she found tears clouding her favorite hazel orbs.<p>

"Quinn..."

"I'm so sorry, Rachel, please forgive me" the blonde pleaded as she slid off the granite and into the diva's extended and waiting arms.

"If you're referring to all of your past high school transgressions, Quinn, you and I have already buried that proverbial hatchet. Water under the bridge, right?"

"I was just so horrible to you..."

"You were, I won't deny that. But you're not that person anymore. I see that, and most of my friends do, too, to a certain degree. It might just take others a little bit longer to come around. But they will, because you're not going anywhere, right?"

"Right," Quinn smiled as her tears began to dry.

"Good, now kiss me, damn it. That's the only prize I've wanted since our victory."

* * *

><p>"What the hell, Briana!" yelled Tom. "Was that really necessary!"<p>

"I don't understand how you can all be so okay with this?" Briana argued. "I can't be the only one who remembers everything Rachel had to go through! And all Molly and I have heard all week was about how Quinn was ignoring Rachel yet again, and all of sudden their back to being BFFs?"

"I'm not saying that I don't entirely disagree with you, Briana," Molly was trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated any further, "but it's clear that Rachel's forgiven Quinn and they've come to some kind of mutual understanding. It's ultimately Rachel's choice who she lets into her life, and we need to support her in that decision so that if it does all go to hell, we'll still have her trust and can also support her then, too. I know you said what you did just to piss off Quinn, but you also really pissed off and hurt Rachel, too. You need to go to apologize to them both. Now."

* * *

><p>"Listen, Rachel, Quinn," Briana started as she rounded the corner to the kitchen. I was really out of line earlier, and you didn't deserve-" She stopped midsentence, briefly taking in the sight of the heated make-out session between the blonde and brunette.<p>

"What the hell, Rachel!" Briana bellowed, "You told me you didn't like girls!"

Quinn and Rachel quickly jerked apart when they realized they had an audience, the blonde's brow furrowing in confusion over the statement that interrupted her pleasure.

"I don't like girls, per se. I just like Quinn," the brunette was the first to regain her voice.

"I can't believe you'd do this to me after what happened between us!"

Quinn cocked her head in continued puzzlement, sure she was misunderstanding the conversation that was occurring around her. "What happened between you two?" Quinn indicated with the motion of her hand. "Rachel, you told me-"

"Well she lied to you, blondie."

Quinn took two steps towards the exit before Rachel's voice stopped her. "Quinn, it's not what you think! Just let me explain!"

"You know what? Just... Unbelievable! Just…Fuck! Fucking figures!" Quinn cried as she pushed her way past Briana and out of the kitchen.

"Damn it, Briana!" Rachel diva stomped her foot on the ground. "Your timing continues to be as impeccable as ever! Nothing fucking happened between us. _You_ kissed me! _I_ didn't ask for it and _I_ didn't reciprocate. I was vulnerable and upset and hysterical over what happened with Finn and you took advantage of my crazed state! If you would remember correctly for once in your life, you'd realize that I pushed you off of me and told you it was a mistake and we should forget about it for the sake of salvaging our friendship, which I don't really see the point of now since you just basically single-handedly destroyed it yet again!" Rachel screamed before she stormed back towards the living room.

"Where did she go?" Rachel demanded as she rounded the corner and ventured back into the area where the rest of her friends were seated, pretending like they just hadn't heard the verbal fight that went down.

"She left, Rach," Molly indicated to the loft's door.

* * *

><p>"Quinn!" Rachel shouted to the blonde's retreating form about a block ahead on sidewalk. "Damn it, Quinn! Stop! You said you wouldn't walk away again, you wouldn't run! You promised me!"<p>

That forced the blonde to halt. _For fuck's sake_, Quinn thought, _of course I had to go and make a grand romantic gesture of a stupid promise I knew I couldn't keep the other night_.

Rachel noticed that Quinn had stopped walking away, but had yet to turn around and face her so she continued her pleas.

"You don't get to just walk away, make me feel like this and not allow me to offer an explanation, Quinn Fabray. You just don't get to walk away and build up your walls to keep me out. We were nearly friends once before and we're...friends now and you don't walk away from friends. You let them in, Quinn. You trust them."

"Don't you get it, Rachel!" Quinn spun on her heel and stalked her way back to the diva. "All everyone's ever done in my life has been to walk away. They've all walked away from me, turned their backs, left me alone! So I now I just do it first. You can't hurt me if I'm already gone! I can't do this, Rachel. You deserve someone better than me. Someone that hasn't hurt you in the past or who isn't hurting you now. Someone who's looking out for you. Someone like Briana."

"But I don't want Briana, Quinn. I want you!"

Quinn nearly collapsed at hearing those words come from Rachel's mouth. One of the numerous three word phrases she had wished for years that the brunette would utter just for her.

"But why, Rachel. Why do you want me?"

Rachel opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Why? That was the million dollar question at the moment. She shut her mouth and looked back at Quinn's pained expression.

"That's what I thought."

"But, Quinn-"

"No, Rach. Go back up with your friends. Enjoy the rest of your night. And come and find me when you've figured out the 'why'. Because I can't just be an experiment or a phase for you. I may not deserve you, but even I know I don't deserve that."


	9. Chapter 9 Revelations

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note**: Thanks to everyone who has continued to review/alert/favorite. Also, my apologies for the numerous typos in the last few chapters. I'm my own beta and my tired eyes missed such very simple grammatical and stylistic errors that it was a bit embarrassing. But I guess that's what happens when I start proofreading at 2am.

As always, I'd love to hear any all thoughts, comments and criticisms. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 9 – Revelations**

* * *

><p>"No, Rach. Go back up with your friends. Enjoy the rest of your night. And come and find me when you've figured out the 'why'. Because I can't just be an experiment or a phase for you. I may not deserve you, but even I know I don't deserve that."<p>

As Quinn turned and walked away, she laughed bitterly. Rachel had accused her of building up her walls to keep the brunette at bay, to prevent herself from getting hurt and that's exactly what she was doing at that very moment. She could nearly visualize the cartoonish little bricklayers at work in her mind, spreading mortar before placing slab after slab of rock in rows until the walls were sky high and her brain was back to its compartmentalized perfection. And when their work was finished in her head, she thought, they could travel down to her chest cavity and patch up her broken heart, too.

* * *

><p>Rachel was unsure how long she had been standing unmoving since other New Yorkers didn't seem to be phased by her catatonic presence in the middle of the side walk. It finally took a cab driver beeping and yelling out his window if she was in need of a ride or assistance for her to be startled from her stunned state. She didn't even answer the driver when she trudged back towards her friends' loft.<p>

* * *

><p>Leslie, Harold, Kenzie, Nate, Tom, Molly, Kath and Briana were all sitting in silence of the loft's living space. After Rachel had stormed out, Briana had slowly made her way back to her spot on the couch, avoiding the glares and questioning looks her fellow actors and friends sent her way. Only Molly held her head in her hands.<p>

Molly was the only friend out of the group who had been privy to the details of what had occurred between Briana and Rachel, and that was really only because she had nearly walked in on the kiss. She had just returned to the dressing room from escorting Finn to the security team to find Rachel heatedly whispering to the dance captain whose head was hung in shame. When Briana had realized Molly had entered the dressing room, she quickly made her exit and it wasn't long before Rachel was rattling off the details.

For the next week, Molly had played mediator between the two actresses. She was the shoulder to cry on when Briana (nauseatingly) waxed-poetic about her unrequited love for Rachel and how she had seen fireworks and felt that there was something between them when they kissed.

Of course when Molly relayed this information to Rachel, the brunette laughed at the notion that Briana could be so smitten after such a one-way kiss, and had eventually pulled the dance captain aside to have a heart to heart discussion. Rachel explained how since she grew up as the only Berry on her family tree, she viewed Briana and Molly as the sisters she never had, and thus had no kind of romantic inclination whatsoever towards either of them. She apologized profusely for her overly affectionate personality, but reasoned it was just the household she was raised in, and she was truly sorry if her affections had ever sent the wrong signals as that was never her intent. Rachel valued Brian's friendship and hoped they could work past the current awkwardness and regain the camaraderie they once shared. Everything had been going smoothly and was back on track until Quinn had reappeared in Rachel's life.

The sound of the loft's door clicking shut brought all the friends' attention back to the two girls who had been part of the shouting match only a few minutes prior. Their gazes ping-ponged back and forth between the stricken dance captain and the fuming diva as she marched towards the group, her hurt and pain from Quinn's rejection instantly replaced with shaking rage.

No one knew what to say, and when all eyes seemed to fall on her, including Rachel's, Briana foolishly decided to attempt an apology.

"Rachel, I'm so, so sorry-"

"You!" Rachel's voice was laced with malice as she pointed her right index finger towards her offender before grabbing the nearly empty beer bottle out of Kenzie's hand. She arched her arm back and nearly everyone, including Briana, ducked and prepared for impact. But instead, the loud smash of glass shattering echoed off the nearest wall, Rachel only breaking the bottom third of the bottle.

_Just like in the movies_, the diva thought, brandishing her weapon as an irrational gleam flit across her eyes.

"Oh, shit," Tom fretted as he wrapped his sizeable arms around Rachel's waist, "it's time for you to go upstairs and settle down. Get her out of here," he gestured by jutting out his chin in the general direction of the cowering dancer whose face was still hidden behind a throw pillow.

Kath grabbed Rachel's wrist and pried the broken bottle from her vice-like grip as the tiny diva struggled against Tom's grasp, vehemently hurling insults the dance captain's way. He finally managed to gain enough control to drape her small body across his broad, left shoulder and hauled her to the bedroom.

Harold and Leslie motioned to Kenzie and Kath for them to help escort Briana out of the apartment as she continued to try and mumble fragmented apologies to at this point in time, no one in particular, as she was as shocked by anyone else by Rachel's erratic behavior.

"I'll see you all later," Nate blindly motioned to the exiting group. He quietly gazed around the space where they were only minutes before celebrating yet another successful game night, laughing, joking and drinking and wondered how in the hell everything had gone downhill so quickly. He moved to right the overturned coffee table that had somehow become victim to Rachel's outburst when he saw that there was still one additional house guest, her head still in her hands. Sitting down to her left, Nate nudged her in the side with his elbow. "I saw those looks swim across your face when the yelling started...spill before you help me with this mess," he waved to the chaos of the room they were currently sitting in, "and _that _mess," Nate pointed towards the loft area where his boyfriend had taken Rachel.

Slowly shaking her head, Molly glanced around the living space, taking in broken shards of glass scattered across the floor and surfaces, throw pillows that had been kicked out of the way.

"Molly...what the hell just happened?" Nate demanded.

"I know what happened there," she nodded to the seat next to her on the couch where Briana had previously been sitting before waving towards Rachel's current location in the bedroom area, "but I have no idea what happened here," she indicated towards the area of the kitchen.

"Care to enlighten me on what little you do know while we start to clean?" Nate held out his hand to help her up.

"It's not my place to talk about it. You need to ask Rachel..." she proclaimed as she walked towards the kitchen to grab the broom and dustpan.

The pair made quick work of the mess that had resulted from Hurricane Rachel's landfall before heading upstairs.

However, the sight that greeted them once they reached the loft's landing was not promising. There was no Rachel in sight and Tom was stretched out on the couple's bed, he hands clasped behind his head.

"Thomas-"

"Uh-uh," he raised a palm from his position on the bed, "not my fault. I didn't realize she would barricade herself in the bathroom."

* * *

><p><em>Halfway up the staircase, Rachel had finally stopped trying to fight Tom's firm grip and had gone limp against his shoulder. He could still hear the murmurs of his friends downstairs, the group dragging Briana out the front door, as he placed the finally calm form of the singer on his bed.<em>

_Tom carefully tilted her chin up so she was forced to meet his eyes and the emotion splayed across her tear-stained cheeks and red and black-rimmed eyes from where her mascara had smudged made him want to comfort her. So that's what he did._

_His large and muscular arms easily enveloped her small frame and even though he was whispering words to try and console her, all Rachel could think about was the fact that these arms wrapped around her were not _her_ strong arms, they were not _her _protective arms that she had come to rely on, she had come to crave in such a short period of time that it rattled and scared the brunette._

_Rachel gently extracted herself from her friend's embrace and looking into his eyes, she forced the smallest of smiles. "I'm just going to use the bathroom for a sec, okay?"_

_Tom had waited patiently just outside the door as he listened to the familiar sounds of the toilet flushing followed by the sounds of what he presumed was Rachel washing her hands in the sink. Though, a minute after he had heard all sounds cease from behind the door, he started to get impatient. _

_Quietly knocking he prodded, "Rachel, it's time to come out now. Come sit with me on the bed and we can talk."_

"_I don't want to talk."_

"_C'mon, Rach. We don't need to talk then, we can just sit."_

"_Tom," the warning in her tone was foreign to his ears and sent an unwelcome shiver up his spine, "leave me alone."_

* * *

><p>"Why did you let her go in there in the first place?" Nate questioned as his eyes bugged.<p>

"Well, aside from the fact that she said she had to use the facilities? Once I got her up here, she seemed to calm down considerably and was acting normal so I didn't see the harm-"

"What about the last twenty or so minutes has seemed 'normal' to you, Tom?" Nate's boyfriend just shrugged his shoulders in response. "And, she's one of the greatest actresses we know! She totally played you."

Tom hung his head as he rethought his actions before looking at Molly and Nate and offering an apologetic smile. "True. I might have had a minor lapse in judgment."

"You don't say?" Nate mocked before adding, "Well, we need to get her out of there."

"What do you think I've been doing for the past fifteen minutes? It's not like she walked in there and I just sat down on the bed and twiddled my thumbs. When she didn't come out after a couple minutes, I knocked and then she told me to leave her alone. You've both been her friends for as long as me and know how stubborn she can be. She'll come out when she's ready."

"Or we could just take the hinges off the door?" Molly suggested.

"They're on the inside. I actually did think of that," Tom answered.

"Oh, just get me that little screw driver. Remember the one we had to use when your little shit of a nephew locked himself in there during hide and seek?"

"Nicky was barely three-years-old at the time, Nathan, he didn't realize what the hell he was doing. Also, I actually already tried that and even though the lock popped, the door's still locked." Both Molly and Nate stared at Tom skeptically. "What? I told you I just didn't sit here twiddling my thumbs. She must have deadbolted the door."

"Why do you even have a deadbolt on your bathroom door?" Molly wondered before taking in the embarrassed and shared gaze between the two men. "Nevermindnevermind. I take it back. I don't wanna know!" She tried to shake the images from her brain. "I'm just worried. Her behavior downstairs. I mean...I've-We've never seen her act like that. You don't think she'd hurt herself, right?"

* * *

><p>Rachel rolled her eyes at her friends' dramatics. Did they really think she couldn't hear their discussion? And it's not like she was suicidal, but rather extremely embarrassed at her actions. She couldn't believe she had reacted in such an irrational manner, well, except for the whole breaking the beer bottle thing. That had indeed been pretty badass especially since she was just initially planning on chucking it at Briana's head, but Rachel had always had 'Bar Fight' as one of the items on her bucket list. Maybe it had something to do with the romanticized notion of hoop skirts, tight corsets and lace, swinging saloon doors and a player piano rather than an actual fight itself...<p>

The diva shook her head to dispel the Old West fantasy before staring back at her reflection in the mirror above the sink before quietly laughing as she took in her appearance. Tight and high ponytail. Red, white and black Cheerio uniform. They really did have a reversal of roles tonight, didn't they?

When Briana had attacked, Quinn backed down and had literally run from the room, something Rachel herself had done countless times in the halls of McKinley, and the blonde's actions were a stark contrast to the persona Rachel had grown accustom to in high school. Quinn had never before been the girl to run from problems, yet as Rachel thought back to her interactions with the former cheerleader over the past month, she realized that high school persona was really no more.

Quinn had gone soft since the years Rachel had watched all of her fellow glee clubbers walk across the stage on McKinley High's football field to accept the flimsy piece of paper that would allow them to progress to the collegiate level of their lives.

When Quinn had randomly shown up in her dressing room exactly a month ago, Rachel had witnessed fleeting glimpses of high school Quinn, but as they met for coffee, most of that old identity had vanished before the diva's eyes and she watched the writer work in her element, asking questions, jotting down answers and already starting to outline the interview piece. And throughout their subsequent meetings and outings and time spent together, any leftover pretense of Quinn's old high school, steely resolve seemed to vanish completely.

Rachel remembered how strange she had found Quinn's actions when the blonde had dropped off soup and her article draft when she had been ill. Not only had the caring nature been so uncharacteristic in regards to what Rachel was familiar with, but also the blonde's demeanor and how adamant she was that she wanted Rachel to read the article before she sent it to her editor was odd. She was seeking Rachel's approval, and that was entirely unexpected.

Now once again they were back in the same position they had been a week ago, doing an odd dance between the realms of acquaintanceship, friendship and more. And damn it, Rachel wanted the 'more'. She wanted the 'more' and she wanted Quinn so much she had broken a beer bottle against a wall and had yelled out obscenities that would make even the harshest of sailors blush because she was beyond frustrated with that blonde writer she badly wanted.

Quinn knew Rachel wanted her. The diva had blatantly told her such, screamed it in front of everyone who were witnessing the fight between a brown-haired cheerleader and a blonde in a too-short skirt and argyle sweater vest. So why was Quinn seeking validation, confirmation of her feelings? Because ultimately, that's what the 'why' she demanded to know was, right?

Rachel rested her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, hoping the action would stall the oncoming headache she could feel percolating behind her eyes. Could it all really be that simple?

* * *

><p>"It's been over a half an hour now. Maybe we should kick the door down. I've seen it done all the time on those cop shows you make me watch, Tom. It doesn't seem too hard."<p>

Motioning to the door, Tom answered, "Well by all means, go right ahead."

"In these shoes? These Edward Greens? You know I just picked these up from Brooks Brothers-"

"It's not my fault you had to buy the most expensive pair of shoes for your Halloween costume..." Tom trailed off as he followed his boyfriend's gaze.

"Oh, no no no. It wasn't my idea and I'm wearing heels, you ass!" Molly glared.

The other three occupants had been so enamored with their own bickering that they hadn't noticed the object of their arguing had exited the bathroom.

"Well, it's nice to know that you would," Rachel held up her right index finger to further illustrate her point, "one, even consider kicking down the door without even taking into account that I was standing right next to it in the line of fire, and," she raised another finger, "two, you're more worried about scuffing your damn shoes than you are worried about me," she finished with a huff before turning towards the staircase.

"Rachel, wait! Where do you think you're going?"

"Come back here! You're not leaving!"

"Yeah! You're staying here and talking to us!"

"No, I'm good, actually. Me, myself and I just had a very productive talk and I've calmed down considerably and now I'm ready to just go home and UNF-"

Tom's more than capable arms wrapped around Rachel's body for the second time that evening, and this time she didn't put up a fight.

* * *

><p>"Oh, honey, welcome to the family! You've finally joined the dark side! But you know we don't have vegan cookies, right?"<p>

Rachel smacked Nate's arm to quiet his joking. "Really? I just bared my soul to you and all you can do is joke about cookies?"

The boy hung his head sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Rach. What do you want me to say?"

"How about some advice? I'm freaking out here. Everything's just happening so fast and that really scares me. I've kind of fallen head over heels rather quickly for a girl, a girl who I was most certainly not always on good terms with nonetheless, and all she keeps doing is pushing me away even though I've told her I want her."

"Right. Because she wants to know the 'why'?" Molly clarified.

The three friends had sat on the bed for the past two hours as Rachel rambled and retold her and Quinn's past history from the time they were aware of one another's presence in high school up until their fight earlier that evening. It was an overwhelming amount of information to take in at one time and all three had agreed their story would make for a fascinating television show.

"Yes. She point blank asked me why I wanted to be with her and I was so taken aback and surprised by the question I couldn't even formulate an answer. Then she said she couldn't be a phase before storming off. Yet, _again_."

"There's part of your solution, Rach. Show her why this just isn't a phase. That's probably got a lot to do with all of her freaking out, no? You said you hadn't defined anything yet...well define it." Tom looked back at the diva's brown eyes.

Rachel slumped against the headboard and thought back to her interactions with Quinn. They had pretty much gone from talking about establishing a new friendship to flirting to Rachel kissing Quinn in a matter of hours really. "It pains me to say this, Tom, but I think you're right. Quinn even suggested physical boundaries earlier in the week because she said I was being too aggressive in our current non-relationship and...well, shit." Rachel flopped to the side of the bed in exasperation. "She just makes it so damn hard! Even when we were in high school and getting along...I didn't even know how to define our relationship then. Were we friends? Did we just put aside our differences for the Glee Club?"

Molly looked at her companions thoughtfully before adding, "That's probably what she's looking for, though, Rachel. You said she told you she was gay the other night and somehow you skirted the topic of your own sexuality. So she still doesn't know where she stands with you, plus the added confusion of Briana's stupidity-"

"That wasn't my fault that she wouldn't let me explain-"

"Plus the fact that she basically knows your whole dating history. She was there in high school when you said you dated Finn, Jesse, Noah and even crushed on your director," Molly stated.

"So?"

Picking up Molly's train of thought, Nate continued, "So, she knows you. You wear your heart on your sleeve, Rachel. You crush hard and you fall hard and you don't always make the soundest of decisions with your heart..." He stemmed his flow of words. No one needed to rehash all of the Finn drama tonight on top of everything else that had transpired.

Before the silence could settle for too long, Tom piped up. "Rachel?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't mean to make you repeat anything really, but just bear with me for a moment, okay...something just occurred to me. All these feelings for Quinn are a new development for you, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"And Quinn?"

"Well, seeing as how she treated me in high school, I would assume so. And from what she told me, she didn't realize she was gay until at some point in college. Then when we started to hang out this past month, something just clicked and-"

"Oh, honey..."

"What?"

"Are you really that naïve, Rachel?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Rachel took in the wide-eyes and stunned expressions of her friends who all seemed to be on the same page without her.

"Rach...I don't think these feelings are a new development for Quinn. I think she's had it bad for you for a long, long time. Since high school."

"No... That's impossible..."

"Babe," Tom looked towards his boyfriend, Nate, "why don't you tell Rachel about Andy."

"Andy?" he quirked his head and looked back at his man before the light bulb flicked on, "Oh, that Andy." Nate rotated so his body was fully facing Rachel.

"Andy was an athlete. Soccer, wrestler and tennis player. All-around great student, well-respected amongst the teachers. The apple of his parents' eye, sitting next to them each week at church, et cetera, et cetera. And, he was also my high school bully. I was shoved in to lockers, called fag and queer and homo. My car was actually vandalized, too. And it was almost all over, graduation was just around the corner actually. We were at graduation rehearsal when Andy pulled me into the bathroom and forced me into a stall and I was sure I was going to get the shit kicked out of me. But instead, Andy had tears in his eyes as he profusely apologized for all the horrible shit he had done over the years. And then, he kissed me and kept on kissing me and I kissed back because, he was HOT!" Nate waggled his eyebrows at this point in his retelling, "and we actually missed all of graduation rehearsal. And then I innocently believed that everything would get better, Andy would either be in love with me or at least leave me alone, but instead, he tripped me as I walked to the stage to accept my diploma. And then I never heard from again but that's beside the point."

All eyes fell to Rachel as Tom once again spoke, "Sound at all familiar?"

"Son of a bitch!"


	10. Chapter 10 The Why

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note**: Back to back postings! You can thank Christopher Columbus for this as I utilized part of my day off to finish up this chapter. As always, thanks for the continued support via reviews, alerts, etc. and feel free to send any thoughts my way via PM, too. Enjoy.

*Edit...well, this was supposed to post last night, but it seems was having a bit of an uploading hiccup*

**Chapter 10 – The Why**

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><p><strong>from<strong>: TheFauxWriter  
><strong>to<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>date<strong>: Nov 2, 2016 at 5:16 PM**  
>subject<strong>: advice

Hi Rachel,

That was, as you put it, quite the epic tale and do have to agree with your friends that your story could definitely translate to television (I'm a writer, I would know such things), but I'd be far more entertained with a reality version of your life versus a scripted format.

I also can assume that you ignored the tidbit of guidance I offered last week when you sought out a second opinion since you didn't walk away from the friendship.

You didn't take my advice then, yet you're seeking another opinion now?

I really don't know what you want me to say...

Anyway, I assume you've got your second show of the day coming up soon so I hope it goes well.

Best,

J

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Rachel Berry  
><strong>to<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>date<strong>: Nov 2, 2016 at 5:27 PM**  
>subject<strong>: advice

Jack,

The evening show couldn't go any worse than our matinee did this afternoon. One of the men in the chorus had a seizure on stage during a big dance number. Frightening as hell. At least our doctor was in house tonight, so everything is okay.

Right now I'm sulking and eating dinner alone and trying to figure out what I'm going to do about my friend.

I'm sorry I didn't follow your previous advice, but I definitely don't regret my actions in doing so. I thought I had actually made a breakthrough, but as I wrote in my previous email, it all went to hell again.

I'm just so frustrated and I don't have a plan to fix all this. And I _**ALWAYS**_ have a plan. Help me come up with a plan, Jack!

Rachel

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: TheFauxWriter  
><strong>to<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>date<strong>: Nov 2, 2016 at 6:01 PM**  
>subject<strong>: advice

Well, I'm no "Dear, Abby" so the best plan I can offer you is from my own writing experience: the 5 W's – who, what, where, when and why. We're constantly planning our articles using those simple steps, so I don't know why you couldn't plan your life the same way.

But in all honesty, you have two options.

You either walk away, or you don't. You either give up, or you don't. You let your friend push you away, or you push back.

But I can't make those decisions for you, Rachel. You've got to be the one to decide if it's worth it.

J

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Rachel Berry  
><strong>to<strong>: TheFauxWriter**  
>date<strong>: Nov 2, 2016 at 6:55 PM**  
>subject<strong>: advice

Walking away...even though that's all my friend seems capable of doing, I just don't know if I can do that. Not with what I know now.

As always, thanks for listening, Jack.

Time to get ready for the show.

Talk soon,

Rachel

* * *

><p>There had been radio silence between the brown-eyed singer and the blonde-haired writer for over a week. The absence of communication on Quinn's part came as no surprise to the diva, but Rachel's own lack of desire to call, text or contact the blonde was unsettling.<p>

Part of her realized they both needed space to sort through their own thoughts and feelings and a large portion of the brunette was just too tired. She was not only exhausted physically from performing eight shows a week, but the emotional turmoil of replaying all of her high school memories through new, enlightened eyes was taking its toll as well.

Rachel couldn't comprehend how a regular and healthy relationship could be this draining, let alone the non-relationship limbo she was currently straddling with Quinn, and that was a major factor in her personal struggle to fight and convince the blonde to stop pushing her away. However, her curiosity was piqued in regards to Quinn's true feelings and for how long she had harbored them.

Showing up unannounced seemed to be Quinn and Rachel's "thing", so it was no surprise when the diva found herself sitting on the steps of the blonde's apartment building's stoop the following Monday. She was looking to confront Quinn in hopes of resolving their past and present issues.

Rachel shivered. A cold front had moved into the area overnight and with the sun setting an hour earlier (damn that daylight savings time!), her light jacket was failing miserably at keeping out the early winter wind. She forced herself to extract her hands from the scarcely-there warmth of her pockets to check her phone for the time.

She was sure Quinn had once told her that her classes ended at 3pm Mondays and Fridays and that she was usually back to her place no later than 4pm. Rachel had arrived shortly after 4pm and when she had buzzed Quinn's apartment, she'd received no answer.

The display on her phone read 5:27pm. She was giving Quinn three more minutes before she decided it was her turn to walk away.

* * *

><p>Quinn's feet were pounding the pavement and she drew in ragged breaths as she rounded her final turn. She glanced down to her watch, 5:27pm, and mentally did the calculation as she slowed her pace to barely a jog as she began her cool down. Approximately seven minute miles for her 12-mile run. Quinn smiled at her latest accomplish and laughed to herself. If she ever spoke to Rachel again, she'd have to thank her for providing the motivation to enjoy and excel at running once more.<p>

Her light jog slowed from a brisk walk to a meandering of sorts as Quinn finally turned on to her block. As she approached her apartment building, Quinn cocked her head at the shape cowering behind the stone railing of the stoop. She popped out her earbuds before questioning, "Rachel?"

The diva glanced at her phone that was still clutched in her now wind burned hand, 5:29pm, before glancing up and furrowing her brow at the sight before her. "You look like a bank robber."

Quinn glanced down at her apparel and couldn't disagree. Long, black running tights; her black, yet reflective, jacket; black neck gaiter and gloves; and black stocking cap completed her outfit. "Yeah, I suppose. I was just out for a run," she breathed as sweat began to collect and run down her face before collecting in the material around her neck. "What are you doing here? How long have you been waiting?"

"Since about four," Rachel glared.

The blonde looked back disbelievingly, "Why didn't you just text me that you were stopping by?"

"Would you have answered me?"

Quinn bit her lip as she thought about her past track record. _Probably not_. "Fair enough... Did you take the subway here, because I really don't-"

"Quinn!" Rachel barked. "You don't get to have a say in whether or not I walk here or take a cab. You don't get to pick and choose when you're going to care about my well-being."

"But I do care, Rachel."

"Then you shouldn't have walked away from me yet again last week. If you care, then you need to start acting like it, damn it."

Quinn bowed her head as she rubbed the back of her neck to try and alleviate the tension that was already beginning to settle. "Okay," she answered as she reached out and tugged Rachel to her feet, dragging them both towards the apartment building's front door.

"Where are we going, Quinn?"

"Inside to where it's warm. If you stay out here much longer you're going to catch a cold or worse, get pneumonia or bronchitis and then you'll have to sit out from your performances and I'm not going to allow you to hang that over my head," she turned towards the diva to offer a small smirk to let her know she was joking as she unlocked the door, "and I assume that what you just said out there isn't all that's on your mind, and I think we'll be most comfortable having this discussion on my couch versus the stone steps."

* * *

><p>Entering her apartment with Rachel in tow, Quinn flicked on the main light before extracting her running gloves from her hands and slipping off her fleece stocking cap and neck gaiter. She motioned for Rachel to have a seat on the couch and offered her the tv's remote before swiftly moving to the kitchen.<p>

"I've put some water on for tea. Would you like anything before I jump in the shower?" She could now feel the beads of sweat rolling down and pooling at the small of her back.

"What other tactics are you going to try and use to delay us from having this conversation, Quinn?"

The blonde arched an eyebrow in response before turning on her heel and heading down the hallway to her bedroom.

Rachel sighed and leaned back on the couch as she attempted to get comfortable. She remembered the last time she was in this room. Though it seemed that the blonde had moved some of the boxes along the living room's wall, everything pretty much remained the same. She shook her head thinking maybe it was too much to ask Quinn to change.

Resigning to her inevitable wait as Quinn showered, Rachel stabbed at the remote's power button. When she remained unsuccessful in turning the television on after her fifth attempt, she pitifully whined, "Quinn!"

"Yeah, Rach?" the blonde asked as she walked out of her bedroom.

Rachel's jaw nearly hit the floor as she took in the perfect physical specimen that was Quinn Fabray. Little was left to the diva's imagination as the blonde walked down the hallway clad only in her running tights and black sports bra. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the toned stomach and the sweat that glistened and accentuated the beauty of her athletic physique.

"Was there a problem, Rachel?" Quinn asked as she tried to hide her grin as she took in the brunette's eyes that were blatantly raking over her body.

The blonde wasn't stupid. She had been emailing back and forth with Rachel as "Jack" for the past week or so and knew that the tiny diva was here on a mission. What she didn't know for sure was what Rachel had decided to do. But if Rachel was prepared to walk away from Quinn for good, Quinn was at least going to make sure the brunette realized what physical aspects of the blonde she'd be leaving behind.

Finally Rachel's eyes fell from Quinn's chest to the remote in her lap, but words still failed to fall from her lips. "Oh, I should have turned the tv on for you. Sorry about that. With this setup you have to hit like three different buttons...there you go. And this button will bring up the guide, this scrolls and this selects. Good to go?"

* * *

><p>Quinn might as well have just left the television turned off since the current show Rachel was witnessing was far more entertaining than anything the small screen could have offered.<p>

The blonde had been done with her shower for a few minutes now, but was continually making trips back and forth from her bedroom to the bathroom covered in a towel that the diva swore was barely the size of a washcloth. With each pass back and forth, Rachel devoured the delicious definition of Quinn's back and the swells of her breasts. With each pass back and forth, Quinn's towel seemed to become a little looser, fall a little bit more and expose just a tiny bit more flesh.

Finally, Quinn exited her bedroom in baggy athletic shorts and an oversized hoodie. She made her way into the kitchen.

"Do you want tea, Rachel?"

"No thanks," she replied. She couldn't afford anymore distractions and now knowing what rested beneath Quinn's clothes would be distraction enough.

Carrying out her mug, Quinn sat on the couch and looked at Rachel expectantly. She felt prepared after her discussions with Rachel via "Jack", but as Rachel's first question fell from her lips, the blonde's brow furrowed. She had not predicted that.

"Why did you call me all those names in high school?" Rachel asked bluntly. Quinn's gaze drifted to the steam rising from her mug, which prompted Rachel to add, "You're not going to find the answer by reading your tea leaves and dregs, Quinn."

"Because I was a stupid teenager."

Rachel let out a little growl in frustration. This was going to be like pulling teeth. But honestly, why should she have expected anything different from Quinn.

"Why are you lying to me right now?"

Quinn set aside her tea, "I'm not."

"Well, then you're telling half-truths."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Rachel..."

"I just want you to be honest with me! How long have you had feelings for me, Quinn?"

The blonde blanched as she felt the butterflies that permanently resided in her stomach whenever she was around Rachel pick up their flight. She tried to lick her lips and gulp down her fear that her oldest secret was no more, but all moisture had vanished.

"How? What, what do you mean? I don't see how any of this matters to us now..."

"Of course it matters, Quinn! I had quite the enlightening discussion a week ago with someone who had their very own high school bully who actually ended up liking them in the biblical sense. And, think of my surprise when I realized how much their relationship oddly paralleled our own.

"So, I'm assuming you've had these feelings for me for years, Quinn, years. You've had forever to process your feelings, forever to figure out what you want and the _'why'_ and now all of a sudden you want me to be able to completely digest and understand and act on these feelings I've been aware of for not even a month. Do you see how fucked up that is? How hypocritical?"

Rachel glared, but her gaze softened when she the absolute terror flash across hazel eyes and Quinn's pale features. She pulled the blonde's hands to her, gently stroking her skin and trying to coax out a response.

"I was just so scared, Rachel," Quinn barely squeaked out as tears began to rush down her cheeks, "I'm still so scared."

"What are, or were you scared of, honey?" Rachel couldn't help the term of endearment that slipped effortlessly from her lips as she took in the cracking façade of the shaking blonde next to her.

"I'm afraid that I'll never find love because no matter how hard or for how long I try to keep my feelings for you buried, tucked away in the darkest depths of my thoughts, no one I've ever met has ever or will ever measure up to you.

"Did you know that people actually thought I had an eating disorder in high school because of my frequent use of my bathroom pass? When in reality I just made myself so violently ill when I thought about how I treated you, the person I cared about most in the world...and I just kept on treating you like absolute shit because I needed to keep you as far away from me as possible.

"And I'm afraid that my heart's just going to get broken all over again, just like it did every single time I had to watch you chase after another guy...my heart's belonged to you and only you, Rachel, for much longer than I'd like to admit. And that terrifies me.

"And because my heart belongs to you, I'm scared that you're going to realize that you don't want to deal with me and my crazy and my issues. That you're going to realize what I realized a long time ago – that I don't deserve you. Not after everything I've done to you and how I've hurt you. I fuck up everything good that has ever come in to my life and I'm just going to fuck this up, t-"

"Quinn!" Rachel dropped the blonde's hands and grabbed either side of her face, forcing watery and red-rimmed hazel to meet warm, chocolate brown. "Since when did you take the master course in Rachel Berry rambling?" This elicited the smallest of smiles from the blonde. "Quinn, I need you to stop saying you don't deserve me. You don't get to decide that, okay? I get to decide. And also, I've forgiven you for your past, so maybe it's time you finally get around to forgiving yourself, too."

"But, Rachel, I-"

"No, Quinn. Back in high school you were scared and a coward and you hid behind the armor of your cheerleading uniform, but you're not that person anymore. You're not hiding behind names or insults or slushies, but rather just your own walls. And by doing so, you're keeping others out, especially me, from seeing the very best of what you have to offer."

"I'm so sorry, Rach," Quinn wept as she wrapped her arms around Rachel's neck, pulling the smaller girl to her lap.

Rachel brushed aside tears and tucked damp strands of blonde hair behind ears before continuing. "I know you are, Quinn, and that's just one of the reasons _why_ I want to be with you. I've seen the person you've become, the person you've transformed in to, and really the person you probably could have been all those years ago if you had the right support system. I want to be with you because of the Quinn Fabray I see sitting right before me now. The Quinn Fabray who sometimes drops her defense just long enough to let me in, who might even bare her soul and her deepest and darkest secrets just because I asked.

"I like what I see in this Quinn Fabray," Rachel emphasized by placing her right hand over Quinn's heart before resting their foreheads together, "but I want to get to know even more about her. I find her fascinating. She makes me laugh, she's smart and," Rachel cautiously lifted up the hem of Quinn's sweatshirt before splaying out her fingers across the blonde's toned abs, "she's got a ridiculously smoking hot body. Those are the reasons _why_, I, Rachel Barbra Berry, want to be with you."

Rachel settled against Quinn's rapidly rising and falling chest as she let her words hang in the air for Quinn to process and analyze. After a few minutes, Quinn raised her head from the crook of Rachel's neck.

"Rachel?"

"Yeah?" she hummed back softly, so very content in her current position.

"Would you like to go out on date?"


	11. Chapter 11 Date Night

**Date Night**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't sue.

**Author's note I: **I really have no excuse for taking so long to update other than the fact that I'm currently working on two other fics (something to look forward to!), and when I'm in the groove of one, I really don't like to switch back and forth.

Special thanks to Rei (yang-isms) over at the tumblrs for providing some well-needed inspiration for this chapter. Much appreciated!

As always, thanks to everyone who continues to read, alert, favorite, and most of all, review.

Enjoy.

**Chapter 11 – Date Night**

* * *

><p>Quinn disliked Tuesdays; it was her busiest day on campus. Luckily, her day didn't begin until 10am with an easy elective course required to for her M.A. completion. Then, she had a break from 11:30-1pm where she was usually able to squeeze in some lunch and a bit of studying or working on her assignments. But starting at 1pm was the reason why Quinn dreaded Tuesdays most as she was stuck in Dr. Foss's weekly Evidence and Inference lecture until 4pm.<p>

That's why at 1:07pm, the blonde found herself in the back row of the lecture hall letting her mind wander and her thoughts to be occupied by Rachel and the events of the previous night.

They had talked. She had cried. She had dragged the tiny girl on to her lap. She had asked her out on a date. Rachel had enthusiastically said "yes" before her lips were attached to the blonde's and the hands that she had never removed from under Quinn's sweatshirt began to boldly explore. After a few minutes they were no longer sitting, but rather reclined on the couch, Rachel perched above, hands still roaming...

Her eyes fluttered closed as the memories replayed and blood rushed to her ears. As her proper hearing returned, Quinn quickly realized that the room seemed suddenly too quiet.

She shook off her ruminations and looked up to find not only her professor, but the rest of the lecture hall's occupants staring at her, and Quinn couldn't suppress her embarrassment. She inwardly groaned as she felt the beet-red flush spreading from her ears and down her neck. Finally looking up from her hands clasped nervously in her lap, Quinn met the black, beady eyes of Dr. Foss.

"Ah, Ms. Fabray, so nice of you to join us. I'm sure your brief detour into Dreamland was pleasant, no?" He didn't wait for a response. "The headline, Ms. Fabray," Dr. Foss indicated the white board at the front of the room, "how does it frame the audience's opinion of the piece? What's omitted and what can you conclude?"

_Shit_, Quinn thought as she desperately tried to recall any bits of the discussion she had been zoned out for during the last – she glanced down at her laptop's display, the open word document devoid of any lecture notes and the time stamp on the clock reading 1:25pm. _SHIT_. Had she actually been fantasizing about Rachel for over fifteen minutes? Quinn felt her already present blush deepen.

As the silence continued to stretch, Quinn forced her eyes from her computer's screen to once again meet the expecting gaze of her professor. With an apologetic shake of her head accompanied by a slight, sheepish upturn of her lips, Quinn let him know she had no idea what had been the topic of discussion.

Dr. Foss replied in kind, exhaling a sigh of profound disappointment and turned to the young man sitting three chairs to the right of Quinn. "Mr. Latham, if you could be so kind as to help Ms. Fabray out."

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Quinn Fabray  
><strong>to<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>date<strong>: Nov 8, 2016 at 1:33 PM**  
>subject<strong>: bad influence

Sitting in class and I just got in so much trouble because of you and your pretty little face.

Q

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Rachel Berry  
><strong>to<strong>: Quinn Fabray**  
>date<strong>: Nov 8, 2016 at 1:38 PM**  
>subject<strong>: re: bad influence

Well, if you've already gotten in trouble once, I would suggest refocusing your concentration in class rather than writing me emails, Quinn.

Rachel

ps – You think I'm pretty.

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Quinn Fabray  
><strong>to<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>date<strong>: Nov 8, 2016 at 1:40 PM**  
>subject<strong>: re: bad influence

Oh, hey!

I wasn't expecting a response from you till much later tonight. I figured you'd be busy.

Also, I'd much rather concentrate on you than this lecture. And the PowerPoint the prof is currently going through...any of yours would put him to shame.

ps – I don't think you're pretty...

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Rachel Berry  
><strong>to<strong>: Quinn Fabray**  
>date<strong>: Nov 8, 2016 at 1:43 PM**  
>subject<strong>: re: bad influence

I'm free until my call time. Had a workout this morning, ran some errands and now I'm just relaxing. Don't mock the awesomeness of my PowerPointing skillz.

ps – ! ! ! ! ! ! !

* * *

><p><strong>from<strong>: Quinn Fabray  
><strong>to<strong>: Rachel Berry**  
>date<strong>: Nov 8, 2016 at 1:48 PM**  
>subject<strong>: re: bad influence

Skillz? Really, Rachel?

ps – I think you're beautiful.

* * *

><p>Quinn sat with a smug smirk on her face as she quickly typed some notes that corresponded to the current slide Dr. Foss was addressing before the flashing of her browser window caught her attention.<p>

***  
><strong>Rachel<strong>  
>Email takes to you long and you weren't<br>answering my texts...

**me  
><strong>I have to at least appear to be paying attention  
>and can't do that if I'm on my phone. That would<br>be sure to get the doc's attention.

But this chating is much preferred to sending emails  
>back and forth.<p>

**Rachel  
><strong>I don't want to get you in trouble again, though.

**me**  
>You won't. And I want to talk to you, beautiful :)<p>

**Rachel**  
>I like that, Quinn. You've never said anything like<br>that to me before.

***  
>With her brow furrowed, Quinn thought back through all of her interactions with Rachel and though she knew she had issues articulating her emotions, she was sure she had at some point verbally expressed her feelings in regards to Rachel's beauty.<p>

And then it popped into her mind. "Jack" had expressed how beautiful Rachel looked the night "he" stood her up for their date. Of course she had said it first through "him", the safety net.

***  
><strong>me<strong>  
>Well, my apologies, Rachel. I should have said it<br>before now, especially since I've thought that for  
>years.<p>

**Rachel**  
>If you could see how hard you're making me<br>blush right now...

You're still the prettiest girl I've ever met, Quinn.

**me**  
>I like you.<p>

**Rachel**  
>Good. I like you, too.<p>

**me**  
>Is that why you put up with me?<p>

**Rachel**  
>Yes, and because I was promised a date.<p>

**me**  
>Oh, is that right? I actually wanted to talk to<br>you about that.

**Rachel**  
>You're not cancelling, are you?<p>

**me**  
>What? Of course not. Why would you think<br>that?

**Rachel**  
>...<p>

**me**  
>I'm not going anywhere, Rach. I wanted to<br>talk about what day you're able to go out as  
>your schedule will be harder to work around<br>than mine, and also what you'd like to do.

**Rachel**  
>Sunday evenings and Mondays work best for<br>my schedule, so either the 13th or 14th? And,  
>since you've had feelings for me since high<br>school, I'm actually surprised you don't  
>already have some grand romantic date<br>planned out and ready to go.

**me**  
>Touché, Madam. But really, you're not<br>going to help me out at all?

**Rachel**  
>What would high school Quinn propose?<p>

**me**  
>You already know the outcome of what<br>high school Quinn would have done.

Nothing.

**Rachel**  
>Very funny. For real, though.<p>

**me**  
>Probably what everyone else always did.<br>Breadstix and then a movie at the Lima 7.

**Rachel**  
>...<p>

**me**  
>And that's what you're going to get if you<br>don't help me with any ideas! Rachel, please!

**Rachel**  
>No. I'm not helping you. You, as my suitor,<br>asked me out, and thus I expect you to be the  
>perfect gentlewoman and woo me, damn it.<p>

I want to be wooed by you, Quinn Fabray.

**me**  
>Fine. If you insist. At least help a girl out<br>a little bit, though.

What's your favorite flower?

**Rachel**  
>No. No hints. I just suggest you do some<p>

research.

Woo me, Fabray.

**me**  
>Humph.<p>

**Rachel**  
>I'm gonna let you go and concentrate on<br>your class. Or, better yet, start planning our  
>date. Let me know what day works best for you<br>as either will be fine for my schedule, okay?

Talk soon?

**me**  
>Of course. I'll call you. Have a great show<br>tonight, beautiful.

**Rachel**  
>Beautiful... Yeah, I could get use to that.<p>

* * *

><p>After what had become her daily routine of a run after class, Quinn was now freshly showered and stretched out across her couch. The television on a low volume provided a comfortable background white noise as she searched for date ideas on her laptop.<p>

Quinn knew Rachel had been joking when she referenced the blonde's longstanding feelings and that she should have had a date idea in her mind since high school. However, that thought still terrified Quinn. How would she ever live up to the expectations of Rachel Berry? Had the roles been reversed years ago, Quinn was damn sure that Rachel, ever the consummate planner, would have had at least one binder filled with various ideas for a first date categorized and dependent upon the season, weather, day, time, casual, formal, etc.

But the blonde was at a loss. Back in high school, and even college before she got involved in the underground, she was the one being courted and asked out. Since moving to New York, the last thing on her mind had been dating as she focused her attention on finding jobs to the pay the rent and her newest tuition bills.

The task in front of Quinn seemed impossible and she honestly wondered why she didn't have a plan, why she had never thought about how she would "woo" this girl? The girl, who even when Quinn had safely tucked her feelings away and buried them in the deepest recesses of her mind, still refused to stay hidden.

On top of that, Quinn had been in the New York for only six months whereas this city had been Rachel's home for the past five years and her dream since she was a small child. The blonde didn't know what she could bring to the table to impress the brunette.

But Quinn was determined. One aspect of her past that stuck with her was that Fabrays weren't quitters, and after her and Rachel's evening the night before, walking away was definitely no longer an option on the table. There was no reeling back in of any feelings or emotions. They had made promises to one another to talk and to listen. It's what they needed to make this work, to get it right, and Quinn was as determined as ever.

Thus, if Rachel Barbra Berry wanted wooing, Quinn would be her chivalrous white knight. And just maybe, a few dates down the road, she'd woo the pants right off of her.

With a reinvigorated determination, Quinn started to brainstorm ideas.

* * *

><p>Rachel's only show on Sunday, the matinee, had gone well and now she found herself staring in to her closet, wondering what to wear.<p>

Quinn had been vague in regards to the planned details of the date, and no matter how much Rachel prodded, the blonde would not budge and refused to reveal any particulars beyond day, time and dress.

She finally decided on black denim jeans that accentuated her long, slender legs and a simple gray sweater that hung to all the right curves. Though she would have liked to wear heals to gain an advantage over their height distance, Rachel chose cute, but practical in case any amount of walking was potentially required, flats to complete her look.

As she was touching up her already flawless make-up in the bathroom mirror, Rachel had to use every ounce of her self-control to reign in her excited squeal of delight when she heard two raps on the apartment's door. She raced down the hallway and into the living room. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she silently counted to ten before opening up the door.

Perhaps it was the ghosts of their high school pasts that clouded her visions, making her assume that the blonde would be wearing dress – maybe even some floral, baby doll number – but when Rachel let her eyes roam over the beaming form of Quinn Fabray leaning against her doorframe, her breath hitched.

She was stunning in the most unexpected way. Honey-colored curls fell in waves around her shoulder and face, highlighting the definition of the blonde's jaw and cheeks in such a way that Rachel had to suppress the urge to reach and trace the lines with her finger (or tongue). Brown boots came up to mid-calf of dark wash jeans that hung to every delicious curve. She wore a white button-down with a slight stripe that Rachel could only discern if she tilted her head, the light hitting just right. The sleeves were rolled up in a casual, imperfect way to her elbows to revealing those strong, protective arms, and a brown vest, even though it wasn't buttoned, that managed hug her torso.

Smokey, hazel eyes twinkled and the blonde smirked as she watched the brunette pull her button lip between her teeth, her chocolate eyes darkening in desire.

Rachel was ready to forgo the date was thinking how quickly she could navigate them to the closet horizontal surface (the floor), when the sound of Quinn's voice whisked her lustful thoughts away like smoke in the wind.

"I was just about to knock again. I thought I had been stood up for a moment," Quinn grinned as she saw Rachel's eyes continue to wander over her body.

"Nope, I was just in the other room is all," she replied distractedly.

The blonde quirked a brow, "For how long did you stand, count and wait before you opened up the door, Rachel?"

Dropping her jaw in mock astonishment, a light blush tinged Rachel's cheeks as she realized she had been caught.

"You know I'm okay with you being excited to see me, right, Rach? I take it as a compliment. And, I missed you, too," Quinn added as she leaned forward and placed a chaste peck to the left side of Rachel's lips before leaning back against the doorway. "Are you going to let me in?" she questioned.

Rachel bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, unable to contain her excitement as she emphatically nodded, stepping aside. Noticing Quinn holding her right arm behind her back, she asked, "Surprises?" while trying to peer around the blonde's sides.

"Yes," Quinn replied as she presented a bouquet of orange and cream tulips.

Rachel smiled before wrinkling her brow in thought and cocking her head slightly to the side. "Quinn?"

"Mmhmm?"

"You asked me what my favorite flower was the other night...did your research lead you to believe that tulips are my favorite?"

"Nope."

"Then why did you choose them?"

The blonde smirked. "Maybe it's your turn to do some research, Rachel."

"Okay," she answered, attempting to make her way towards the bedroom.

Quinn blocked her path. "Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm going to go and look it up. My laptop's in the bedroom."

"Ah ah, not so fast." Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel's middle and spun her back in the direction of the kitchen. "We need to get these in a vase and then we have places to be. You do remember our date, yes?"

Rachel giggled and leaned back into the comfort of Quinn's loose grasp around her waist as she allowed her to walk them towards the kitchen. She set the tulips on the counter as Quinn perused the various photos, clippings and items that were pinned by magnets on the refrigerator's surface.

Her attention was drawn to the small brunette and a small smile played against her lips when she heard Rachel grunt in frustration, the tips of her fingers barely unable to graze the knob of the cabinet door she was trying to reach.

"Quinn!" Rachel whined, "can you help me? I can't reach," she emphasized with a foot stomp.

Walking up behind Rachel, Quinn's easily opened the cabinet and selected a rectangular vase. "Why do you keep all your vases the way up here if you can't reach, Rach?"

Filling the vase with water, Rachel answered, "I've never really had a reason to use them very often. It's not like I get flowers frequently, and if I get them for the show I always just leave them in the dressing room."

Frowning at this reply, Quinn declared, "Hmm...well maybe you should consider reorganizing your cabinets to make the vases more accessible, because I think I'm just going to have to change that fact," before she lightly slapped her ass. "C'mon, Berry. We've got places to go, things to do."

Setting the flowers on her dining table, Rachel beamed her mega-watt smile at the blonde who was in rare form. She had never seen her in such a relaxed mood. It suited her and made Rachel extremely eager to get the rest of their night started.

"I just need to grab my purse and then I'll be ready to go."

The blonde was greeted with a frown when she answered, "You'll just need your ID, Rach."

Expecting this reaction, Quinn turned to the frowning brunette and placed her index finger against Rachel's lips to silence the protest before it even began.

"Don't even try, beautiful. This is my date, and even though you're used to always getting your way, tonight...my rules."

* * *

><p>As their taxi pulled to a stop, Quinn lightly placed a hand against Rachel's thigh and whispered, "Just sit tight for a minute, okay?" before proceeding to pay the fare and tip to their driver.<p>

She then quickly exited the cab and made her way around the back bumper before opening Rachel's door and extending her hand. "Ready?"

Biting her lip in a failed attempt to prevent yet another grin being plastered across her face, Rachel said, "You're too much," as she put her fingers in Quinn's hand and allowed the blonde to gently guide her to the sidewalk.

"You like it," Quinn added as she shut the door behind them.

Rachel was pleasantly surprised when Quinn didn't let go of her hand but rather entwined their fingers as they started walking down the block.

"Is this okay?" Quinn briefly swung their hands between them to indicate what she was asking.

"Holding my hand? Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, your career..."

"Oh, Quinn, that's nothing." She gave a reassuring squeeze to the hand tangled with her own. "This is Broadway, baby. Are- are you're okay with this?"

"Of course. It's just that, not everyone is okay with this...and I'm a nobody, Rach, and you're already something, somebody. One day you're going to be an even bigger something. Beyond Broadway."

"Quinn," Rachel said as she stopped walking and held firm to the hand in her grasp, pulling the blonde back towards her.

When Quinn was directly in front of her, she dropped their joined hands and brought both of hers up to cup either side of the blonde's face before pulling her down into a kiss. "Does that answer your question?" Quinn vigorously nodded. "And I hate it when you talk like that, in that self-deprecating way. Please stop."

Quinn again bobbed her head. "I'll work on that. Promise."

"Good. Now about this date. Where are we headed?"

The blonde looked at their surroundings. "We're actually here."

Rachel looked at the store front facing them, the neon sign slightly flickering Bombay Gaylord. "An Indian restaurant?" she questioned.

Quinn chuckled and answered, "No," as she allowed her hand that was resting on Rachel's shoulder to lightly trail down her back before settling protectively at the small of the brunette's back. She guided her to a nondescript stairwell at the side of the restaurant.

"Just take your time down the steps, and the last step is actually only half the height of the others, so be careful of that."

Rachel turned back at the top of the landing with wide, questioning eyes.

"I did a reconnaissance mission mid-week. I nearly cracked my skull of the brick because of that last step."

Rachel's brows rose in concern.

"I'm fine, silly. I also had to make sure that where I was planning on bringing you would receive the Rachel Berry stamp of approval. Trust me, okay? You're going to love it."

Quinn placed a quick kiss to the brunette's temple before nudging her down in to the stairway's darkness.

* * *

><p>"This is beautiful, Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed as she reached for the blonde's hand as they were escorted to their table. She took in the dark wood and dimmed overhead lighting, velvet covered walls and the stage where crew members were preparing for a performance. "How did you find this place?"<p>

Quinn pulled out Rachel's chair at the table, eliciting an adorable eye roll from the brunette in regards to her gentlemanly antics before answering, "You'd be surprised what the power of Google and few press credentials can get you."

As she took her own seat, Quinn was happy with their table's placement. They were in a secluded corner of the lounge but were still afforded a great view of the stage. She redirected her attention back to the brunette sitting across from her and took in the face as the table's lone candle cast shadows.

The girl before her was truly breathtaking, and Quinn mentally kicked herself for all of her past regrets, her past treatment of this sweet soul before her. How had she managed to wait seven long years to truly acknowledge these feelings and the way she currently felt?

"Didn't your parents ever teach you that it's impolite to stare, Quinn?" Rachel teased, but her smile quickly faded as she saw the briefest flash of anger against those hazel eyes. The brunette internally began to chastise herself for touching on what she knew in the past had been a sore subject and could only assume still was since the blonde never spoke of her family in any terms. "Oh, Quinn, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to..."

Quinn reached across the wooden surface with her palm up and waited for Rachel to place her hand in her grasp. "I know you didn't mean anything by that, Rachel. It's okay. Honestly." She reassuringly ran her thumb across tanned knuckles. "And, I just couldn't help my leering at the beautiful girl in front of me."

Rachel relaxed as she saw Quinn's eyes flash with mirth and something else that made her tingle and feel the need to break the stare. Yeah, she could definitely get used to hearing those words fall from those lips.

Quinn continued to stroke the hand in her grasp. "I know that you were maybe hoping for some grand romantic gesture or a first date planned down to the very last detail, Rachel, but I hope this is okay. I really just wanted us to be able to have a nice meal, talk and listen to some great music."

"This is perfect, Quinn. And, I'm actually really, really happy to hear that you want to talk. Maybe it's a girl thing, and please don't hate me for bringing him up, but that was one of the most annoying things about dating Finn even in high school. We never talked. Our dates always consisted of Breadstix, where he would shove his face full and I would pick at my bagged salad since it was the only thing I could eat on the menu, followed by a movie, where we would sit in silence, and again, please don't be upset with me for saying this, they then ended with his mouth covering mine, which of course impeded any conversation. So this...this is perfect."

"I'm glad, Rach. And maybe it is a girl thing, but it's also a promise thing. I told you that I would work on sharing my feelings and thought this would be the perfect way to start. We should probably figure out what we want to eat before the performance starts, though," she added, pushing a menu towards Rachel. "Anything you want, Rachel, get it."

Scanning the menu, Rachel smiled as she noted all the vegan options, before asking, "So I'm going to assume from the décor that we're in a jazz lounge? Who's performing tonight?"

Quinn grinned. "Excellent detective skills, Sherlock. And tonight's an open mic night of sorts."

Rachel's eyebrows nearly leaping off her face did not go unnoticed by the blonde.

"Oh, no. Don't you get any ideas there, honey. It's an open mic night for _students_ from the various universities. It's done monthly with the set list set in stone well in advance."

"But I'm sure they'd make an exception for a burgeoning Broadway star, Quinn."

"Oh, I'm sure they would, Rachel. But nope. I'm feeling selfish and want you all to myself tonight."

"Fine, party pooper. But next date is mine and we're doing karaoke, damn it."

"Who said anything about a next date? I need to see how this one goes first," the blonde said in amusement.

"Quinn Fabray! You take that back right this instant!"

"Make me, Berry."

Never one to back down from a challenge, Rachel tossed the cloth napkin that was across her lap to the table. Before Quinn was able to process the situation, the brunette was straddling her lap and crashing their lips together. After a few heated moments, Rachel leaned back while still sucking on Quinn's bottom lip before releasing it with an audible 'pop'.

She stared into those hazel eyes with a knowing look.

"Karaoke it is," Quinn croaked out as she took in the curious and interested gazes of their fellow patrons and immediately began to blush.

* * *

><p>"Well that was depressing. And she was a bit flat near the end, too."<p>

Quinn just shook her head and stifled a laugh as she pushed aside some of her pasta in search of another piece of eggplant. It was true that the latest student's cover of "Stormy Weather" had been less than stellar, but she was keeping her opinion to herself.

"Do you plan to critique everything this evening?" she asked.

Since their meal had arrived and the singers and musicians had taken the stage, Rachel had been engaging in a running commentary about every aspect of their performances.

"Yes, I do, and I can't help it. I'm an artist and opinionated. Though, my meal is excellent. Compliments to the chef!" Rachel raised her glass of wine in a mock toast.

As the next performance began, a somber look took over Rachel's feature. "Quinn?"

"Yeah, Rach?"

"Sometimes...sometimes I'm afraid that I'm going to scare you away."

At this abrupt change in conversation, Quinn abandoned the food she was still toying with and pushed her plate aside, frowning. "How do you mean?"

"You're different, Quinn. Different from the girl I used to know, but I'm still pretty much the same person I was in high school. I still wear my heart on my sleeve, I fall fast and I'm clingy. They're not always the most attractive qualities others look for in a...partner."

Quinn sighed. "This is the exact reason I wanted to come to a place like this tonight, so we could discuss some of these issues we both have. So we could talk."

"And sometimes I don't think before I talk, Quinn. I don't have a filter. Like when I just absentmindedly mentioned your parents. Even though you tried to brush it off, I still knew it upset you and I was so nervous that you were just going to stand up and walk away."

Quinn's face fell when she heard that admission. She had really fucked up so much these past few weeks with the stupid mind games she was unintentionally playing with Rachel and now the brunette's insecurities, insecurities that she herself was responsible for fueling, were burning bright.

"Rachel, look at me please." The candlelight shone brightly in those glassy, chocolate eyes and the look made Quinn's heart ache. "C'mere, beautiful," she held her arms open and beckoned the brunette with the tilt of her head.

Quinn pulled Rachel into her grasp, wrapping her small frame in her arms. She brushed a loose tendril of soft as silk hair behind Rachel's ear before placing a lingering kiss in the crook of the brunette's neck – curious stares from onlookers be damned.

"You say I've changed so much since we graduated, and I know you hate to be wrong, but I'm going to have to disagree with you. It's true that I'm not the same bitch, or at least I try not to be, anymore, but that still doesn't mean that I've stopped hurting you lately, even if it's been accidental.

"I'm glad you wear your heart on your sleeve, Rach, because that means I usually know where you stand. Sure you sometimes catch me off guard every now and then, but it's still rather rare. However, I doubt you can say the same thing about me. I've got plenty of masks in my arsenal."

Quinn could feel Rachel nodding her head in agreement against her cheek so she continued. "But like we discussed last week, I'm working on that okay, beautiful. I've got a lot to prove to you, and you're going to have to start trusting me. Trusting that I'm not walking away from this anymore, Rach. I honestly don't think I could if I even wanted to."

"Even if I mess up again like I did about Briana?"

"Now, I was okay with you bringing up Finn during our date, Rach, but I'm not sure how I feel talking about _her_," Quinn emphasized with a playful squeeze and a light ticking to the ribs of the girl in her arms to let her know she was completely joking. "We've been over this, baby. I thought you were lying and I was being completely irrational, unfair and stupid."

"I would never lie to you, Quinn. After everything I've been through with Finn and all of his lies, lying is something I can't tolerate. Lies are messy and I don't want messy. Not anymore."

Quinn's mind briefly flashed to "Jack" before she brushed that problem away with a swipe of her hand to her forehead.

"But you do want me and all my issues, Rachel?"

"Yes-"

"-Masochist-"

Rachel lightly elbowed Quinn in the ribs before continuing, "-especially since we're working on those issues together."

They sat like that for a few minutes longer, Rachel's head resting against Quinn's as the blonde's hands lightly rubbed patterns up and down the brunette's sides.

"Hey, Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna get out of here? Go for a walk?"

"That sounds lovely."

After paying for their meal, Quinn's hand was once again anchored Rachel's back as she guided them through the maze of tables and back out to the street.

* * *

><p>"Maybe we should rethink the walk. The skies don't look too promising," Rachel suggested.<p>

Even though it wasn't currently raining, it was obvious that a storm had passed through while they were underground at the jazz lounge. The sidewalks were damp, the street riddled with puddles. Likewise, there weren't very many people outside at the moment, either, adding credence to Rachel's statement in regards to the sky and probable weather forecast.

"I vote we chance it. The park's right there. I mean, unless you want the date to be over?" Quinn teased.

"Of course not! And I guess it would just be a little bit of rain, right?"

"That's the spirit, it's just water."

The blonde tugged on the tan hand enclosed in her own as they continued to walk down the block towards an entrance to Central Park. While waiting at a crosswalk, Rachel noticed the rather deep puddle impeding their route. Quinn heard her muffled whine and laughed when she felt the light stomp of her foot.

"What's wrong?"

"There's a puddle and I'm going to get water in my flats," Rachel grumbled.

"I've got a solution."

"Oh, honey, I know you've been doing the whole gentleman thing tonight, which has been noted and it's been really sweet, but do not lie your vest down across the puddle."

Quinn couldn't hold in her laughter at that statement. "That's not actually what I had in mind, Rachel."

"Then what- Ahhh!"

Rachel shrieked as Quinn grabbed her around the waist and first hoisted her towards her shoulder before slightly bending at her own waist and rotating the brunette to her back. She swiftly brought her arms around and hooked them behind the brunette's knees. Rachel's arms were wrapped loosely around Quinn's neck as she walked them through the crosswalk and into the park.

"I can feel you scowling against my cheek. Are you not comfortable?"

"No. It's just... You did that all too easily. Like you carry people like this all the time."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy in your tone, Ms. Berry?" Quinn smirked as she heard Rachel mumble. "What's that, beautiful? I'm afraid you'll have to speak up."

"Possibly."

"No, I don't do this all the time, Rach. My sister, Frannie, has two young boys. The last time I was back in Ohio, their new thing was piggy back rides. And honestly, you're pretty much the same size as they are so..."

"How old are they?"

"Umm, four and six..."

"Quinn!" Rachel stressed with a light smack against her chest. "I can't believe you're making fun of my small stature!"

"I like that you're pocket-sized, Rach. You fit perfectly."

Rachel couldn't argue with that sentiment. "You can put me down if you want, Quinn. I don't want you to tire yourself out. I can walk now."

"Do you want me to put you down?" Quinn waited for a response before chuckling. "That's what I thought. Don't worry about me, Rach. I've been running consistently for a few weeks now. My muscles are strong."

They continued down the lamp-lit path for a few more silent minutes.

"Damn it."

"What's wrong now?"

"It's starting to rain, Quinn."

"Are you going to melt?"

"No."

"Then stop complaining," Quinn added as she made her way over to a bench near a street lamp as the few drops of rain turned into a steady drizzle. It appeared that the sudden change in weather was offering them the comfort of privacy as there were no other park goers in their immediate vicinity. "Here, I'm going to lower your feet to the bench."

Quinn stretched into the air, loosening her tight muscles before she turned back to Rachel and placed her hand on her hips to lowering her to the ground and asking, "Will you dance with me, Rachel?"

"But, Quinn, it's beginning to rain harder," she feigned protest.

"Please?" The blonde put on her best pout as she held her hands up in the promenade position.

Rachel couldn't resist that look, one she herself had mastered, nor the chance at a dance with the blonde. She willingly stepped into the waiting embrace, placing her hands in Quinn's.

For a few moments, they gently swayed back and forth as the storm continued to roll in, the drops of water becoming more frequent and plentiful. Soon enough, Quinn lowered her head to Rachel's left ear and began to lightly sing the song that had just begun to be performed when they were leaving the jazz lounge.

_Come away with me in the night  
>Come away with me<br>And I will write you a song_

The rain was fairly steady now and Quinn brought a thumb across Rachel's forehead to brush aside a few stray and wet dark locks of hair before placing a kiss where her thumb had just stroked.

_Come away with me on a bus  
>Come away where they can't tempt us<br>With their lies_

Rachel shifted her head from its position on Quinn's chest to smile at the blonde humming the notes between the stanzas. Noticing a drop of water running down the bridge of the blonde's nose, she reclined her neck back, kissing Quinn's nose before it could fall.

_And I want to walk with you  
>On a cloudy day<br>In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high  
>So won't you try to come<br>_

Quinn twirled them through what was now a downpour, not afraid of splashing water as they danced through established puddles because they were already soaked.

_Come away with me and we'll kiss  
>On a mountaintop<br>Come away with me  
>And I'll never stop...<em>

Rachel frowned slightly, she knew there was more to that verse, but her thoughts were quickly brought a standstill as the only sensation she was currently registering was that of of Quinn's lips and hot breath sucking and nipping along the length of her collarbone.

"Mmm, Quinn."

"Sorry, you were just starting to collect your own puddle there," the blonde replied with an impish smile before finishing the song.

_And I want to wake up with the rain_  
><em>Falling on a tin roof<em>  
><em>While I'm safe there in your arms<em>  
><em>So all I ask is for you<em>  
><em>To come away with me in the night<em>  
><em>Come away with me<em>

Again, they continued to rotate to the music of the storm splashing against the pavement, the leaves, the metal of benches and lamp posts. Clothes, wet and soaked through, hung to curves like second skins, and just like the other night when Quinn's sweat accentuated her physique, Rachel couldn't help but notice how the rain added definition to the blonde's own beauty. But it did more than that, too. In this moment, the rain seemed to wash away all the masks that Quinn wore, including her make-up and walls.

Rachel relocated her hands to the blonde's neck and pulled her down into a searing and deep kiss.

"I'm sorry, Rach," Quinn broke the silence moments later.

"What for?"

"Well, I carried you all the way here so you wouldn't get water in your shoes..."

Rachel laughed and shifted the few damp strands of blonde hair that had obscured her view of the most vibrant hazel eyes back behind Quinn's ear.

"Let's head back home, Quinn."

* * *

><p>"G'night, beautiful," Quinn said outside the door of the brunette's apartment.<p>

Rachel looked up at the blonde through her rain-soaked lashes. "Stay, Quinn. You can drop the gentlemanly act now." She watched as she saw the blonde's face fall as she took a step back.

"It wasn't an act, Rachel."

The brunette instinctively reached out and wrapped her fingers around Quinn's wrist. "I know that. I'm sorry, that was poorly worded and not what I meant at all. You've been unbelievably romantic this evening and I've loved it. Consider me sufficiently wooed, Quinn. Just, please come in for a little bit."

"I don't know," Quinn responded as she brought her free hand to rub the bridge of her nose in thought.

"It's just- what kind of a girlfriend would I be if I let you stay in these wet clothes? You might catch a chill and get sick," Rachel answered with a smile.

Quinn's eyebrow was predictability raised. "Girlfriend? I thought we were just out on a date..." she teased.

"I'm labeling this, Fabray. It's what you've wanted for however many years, don't even try and deny it, and it's what I want now. So please, come in and get out of those wet clothes, okay?"

* * *

><p>Rachel tugged on Quinn's hand as she led her towards the bedroom.<p>

The blonde unzipped her boots and shrugged off her rain-soaked vest as Rachel began to take off her own wet clothing on the other side of the room.

As she began to unbutton her shirt, Quinn asked, "Hey, Rachel, do you have a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt I could borrow?"

Rachel laughed to herself. Quinn had no idea about the brunette's own plans for the remainder of the evening.

"I never said anything about putting on any other clothes, Quinn. I just mentioned that I would be remiss as your girlfriend to allow you to continue to wear your clothes in such a state. However, I will gladly help you to extract yourself of these."

She stepped directly behind Quinn and pressed herself flush against the blonde's back before snaking her hands to the front of her waist, deftly popping the front button of the blonde's jeans.

Rachel's actions were unexpected and sent shivers down Quinn's spine. This had not been in her game plan for their first date. "Rachel," Quinn's tone carried a slight warning.

"What, Quinn?" Rachel asked as she brought her hands up to the blonde's shirt and finished undoing the remaining buttons.

In all actuality, Quinn was lucky Rachel hadn't just ripped the shirt the rest of the way open, sending buttons flying.

"You can't tell me that you don't want this," Rachel added as she pushed the fabric from Quinn's shoulders, kissing the newly exposed skin. "If you can tell me that you don't want this," she stressed with a nip to the base of the blonde's neck as her hands continued to roam the bared skin of Quinn's stomach, "we can stop."

With her shirt now pooled around her feet at the floor, Quinn felt the full effect of having Rachel against her, hardened nipples pressed against the skin of her back.

"It's just that you..."

"What about me, Quinn? All I know is that I want this. I want you," Rachel stated as she rotated the blonde in her arms so that they were finally facing.

Quinn remembered the last time she was in this very room with a very near-naked and a very drunk Rachel and how she had willingly averted her eyes. However, she now took the time to let her gaze wander and devour the tanned, naked perfection before her.

"Do you not want this, Quinn? Do you not want me?" Rachel asked.

She watched as the blonde licked her lips and closed her eyes. When they reopened, Rachel released a short gasp when she saw how dark they had become.

"Of course I want you, Rachel," Quinn breathed.

"Then by all means, come and get me."

Quinn didn't need to be told twice. With an almost animalistic, primal groan, she grabbed Rachel's bare ass, scooping and lifting the brunette in to her arms. Rachel's legs instinctively wrapped around the blonde's waist. Lips met in desperation, tongues teasing and tasting before Quinn began to slowly walk towards the bed.

As her shins met against the wood of the frame, Quinn gently deposited Rachel on to the mattress, straddling the brunette's hips before leaning down and reattaching their lips.

This kiss, though, was less frantic as Quinn slowed down the pace in attempts to slow down her hammering heart that she swore was about two beats away from coming out of her chest.

Quinn steadily kissed her way down from Rachel's mouth to her chin, to her jaw and to the brunette's neck, the blonde's favorite spot. She buried her lips in the crook of her neck as emotions overtook her.

Rachel soon realized that the kisses, nips and licks had stopped and Quinn's chest was shaking with silent sobs. She reached her hand up to the blonde's face to confirm her suspicions and yep, there were tears. Rachel rolled them on to their sides.

"Honey," Rachel soothed as she brushed stray wisps of blonde hair behind Quinn's left ear, "we don't have to do this if it's going to make you upset. It's not going to hurt my feelings if we need to stop."

Quinn released a pitying chuckle. "No, Rachel, you don't understand. You don't know how much I want this. How much I've always wanted this. How much I've always wanted you."

"Years, right?"

Quinn could only bob her head in response.

Rachel thought for a moment as she used the pad of her thumb to brush away the tears lingering on a Quinn's pale cheek.

"Then let me show you first how much I want you right now."

Rachel pressed her palm to Quinn's shoulder, forcing the blonde to her back. She let her hands run down the length of the blonde's torso, reveling in the short gasps and muscle contractions under her fingers before she hooked in hands around belt loops.

"Off," she ordered, as she snaked her thumbs inside the waistbands of not only Quinn's jeans but also her boy shorts.

As Quinn lifted her hips off the mattress to aid in her pants removal, Rachel took advantage of her arched back to skillfully snap the blonde's bra enclosure open before tossing all remaining articles of clothing to the side of the bed.

Quinn watched Rachel's chocolate eyes roam over her body and her hands sought out the fabric of the sheets to twist in her growing embarrassment of her full exposure. After more than a few silent seconds, Quinn began to grow self-conscious and squeaked out, "Rachel?"

The brunette brought her hand to her lips before apologizing, "Sorry, I was...I was just...I was...drool...fuck, Quinn. You may call me beautiful, but you're gorgeous," Rachel offered with a nearly shy smile before lowering herself between the blonde's legs.

Quinn couldn't stifle the groan she felt when the brunette's wet heat pressed against her right thigh.

Between nips and kisses to the blonde's neck, Rachel husked in her ear, "You feel that, Quinn? That's what you do to me."

Hearing those words, Quinn began to slide her hand between their bodies and down Rachel's toned stomach.

"Oh, getting right down to business, I see. I just always thought you were more about the teasing before the pleasing, Quinn," Rachel said as she nipped at Quinn's pulse point

With a growl, Quinn hooked her leg around Rachel's waist and swiftly reversed their positions so that the brunette was now pinned with her back to the bed. The blonde quickly slipped two fingers through Rachel's wet folds and finding her entrance, she thrust her fingers deep inside.

A soft mumble followed by, "Fuck, Quinn," fell from Rachel's mouth.

"If it's teasing you want, Rachel, it's teasing you'll get," Quinn finally answered the taunt as she removed her fingers and lightly brushed against Rachel's clit, causing the brunette to arch off the bed.

Quinn locked on to Rachel's eyes and she brought her fingers to her mouth, tasting the brunette for the first time and humming her approval. "You taste so good, Rach," Quinn added before she allowed her tongue to continue to clean her fingers.

Rachel whimpered as she watched Quinn's movements; she wanted that tongue and those fingers on her, and she wanted them now.

"Quinn, please..." she was not above begging.

"Not yet, Rach," Quinn admonished as she sought out Rachel's lips, keeping the pace slow, sliding their lips softly against one another. The blonde took her time, pulling and sucking on both Rachel's top and bottom lips before brushing her tongue along them, asking for entrance. Rachel kept her lips together.

"Stubborn," Quinn breathed into another kiss as she let her left hand travel down Rachel's side until she found her destination. Tweaking the already hardened nub, Quinn received the reaction she was expecting, and when Rachel gasped, she smiled as she slid her tongue into the brunette's mouth

The blonde traced teeth, lips and sucked on Rachel's tongue all the while continuing to knead her breast and roll the ever hardening nipple between the pads of her thumb and forefinger.

When Rachel's squirming heightened, Quinn trailed her kisses down her jaw, to her neck, nipping and licking as she made her way to Rachel's heaving chest.

"Years, Rach. Even when I didn't want to admit it to myself, I've dreamt and fantasized about this moment for years, beautiful."

Rachel would barely supply an intelligible response as the heat of Quinn's mouth was soon attached to the stiff peak the blonde has been pulling and tugging for the past few minutes.

The brunette moaned when the blonde's right hand cupped her other breast and began to knead and pinch squeeze. Quinn marveled at the fact that her hands and Rachel's breast were a perfect fit.

Quinn inhaled a shaky breath and let out a light chuckle as she felt Rachel arch in response to the sensation of cool air being drawn over her sensitive skin. The blonde allowed her teeth to lightly graze the darkened flesh before she turned her focus to Rachel's other breast, determined to give each other equal amounts of attention.

Rachel's hands were roaming the nakedness of Quinn's back, her palms pushing and nails dragging before she tangled one of her hands into the blonde's still rain-damp hair, moaning her approval of Quinn's mouth and tongue.

The blonde finally relented that she had shown Rachel's breasts enough affection for the moment, and continued her kisses down the expanse of Rachel's toned stomach.

Quinn joked, "I've never head you this quiet before, baby. Had I known then what I do now, maybe we all could have avoided some of your rants back in gl-"

Her words were caught off as Rachel brought her knee up to meet Quinn's already throbbing center.

"_Shit_," Quinn exhaled as she met the smiling eyes and smirk plastered across Rachel's face.

Undeterred from reaching her intended destination, Quinn brought Rachel's legs over her shoulders as she settled herself in front of the brunette's sex, swollen and glistening. She first allowed her fingers the initial exploration, mapping out the path her tongue would soon take, as she watched and listened for Rachel's reactions via gasps, arches and moans.

"Please, Quinn..."

"What do you need, Rachel?"

"I- I want you mouth on me. Now."

Quinn was ready to be done with the teasing herself so she had no qualms about acquiescing to Rachel's current demand. Flattening her tongue, Quinn licked up the length of Rachel before slightly nipping at her clit at the end.

"My god," Rachel moaned, biting down on her lower lip and entangling her hands in Quinn's blonde hair, pulling her towards her to increase the pressure. Rachel felt Quinn smile against her as the blonde repeated the action. "Fuck yes, Quinn," Rachel arched her hips up the meat the stroking of Quinn's tongue.

The blonde closed her lips around Rachel's clit, alternating between sucking and licking as Rachel began to grind her hips, matching Quinn's pace and rhythm.

When Quinn began to feel Rachel's muscles tense, she quickly pulled away and maneuvered her body back up towards the brunette.

"What! No, Quinn! Why are you stopping-"

Her pleas were silenced as she felt the force behind two of Quinn's fingers entering her, her hips arching to meet the thrusts. Rachel threw her head back against the pillow and clutched her eyes shut tightly.

"Baby?" Rachel asked against Quinn's lips that were once again kissing her own, "let me touch you, too," she continued as she reached her hand between their sweaty bodies until she found what she was looking for and began to swirl her fingers around the blonde's clit.

Quinn hissed and dropped her forehead to Rachel's. "You feel so good, Rach, so good. I'm not going to last long, beautiful."

"S'okay. I'm close," Rachel murmured as she felt the familiar tightening of stomach, the white hot coiling, begin.

Quinn continued her thrusts inside Rachel's heat and began to search out the brunette's tiny rough patch. Smiling, she knew she found it when Rachel exclaimed, "Fuck!" The blonde began to curl her fingers, hitting the spot over and over again, pushing Rachel towards the edge that she herself was quickly approaching.

"Say my name, Rach, I want to hear you say it when you come," Quinn begged as began to feel herself fall.

Quinn curled twice more before she heard Rachel's strangled cry, "Quinn!" though she continued to thrust deep inside, feeling Rachel's walls squeeze and tighten, wave after wave rolling through.

As the last tremors worked their way through their bodies, Quinn placed a sloppy kiss to Rachel's temple before rolling on her side and hugging the brunette to her.

They lay together for a few minutes as their breathing returned to normal before Rachel predictably broke the silence.

"A ten. Definitely a ten."

"What are you talking about?" Quinn mumbled into the pillow.

"You asked me earlier if I was going to critique every aspect of this evening and I said I was. So that's my score. Ten out of ten."

* * *

><p>The covers were now draped around their naked forms as they were curled up together. Quinn had been tracing random patterns across Rachel's side and even writing promises.<p>

"Rach?" she whispered, delicately brushing her lips across a bare, tanned shoulder. Quinn listened to the even, metered breaths of the girl in her arms.

Sure that Rachel was indeed asleep, Quinn lightly whisper-sang the verse from their dance earlier in the evening, but this time without the two-word omission.

"Come away with me and we'll kiss, on a mountaintop. Come away with me, and I'll never stop _loving_ you."

Quinn settled back into the pillows, not registering the nearly imperceptible shift of the brunette who had in fact never drifted off to sleep.

As Rachel felt the steady rise and fall of the blonde's chest that was pressed flush against her naked back, she listened to not only the storm that was still continuing to rain down outside the bedroom window, but also the new storm that was now raging in her heart upon hearing that simple word fall from those perfect lips: love.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note II<strong>: The song used during this chapter is Norah Jone's "Come Away With Me".

I know a few of you had asked for some Faberry fluff before everything goes to hell due to the ominous beginning of the first chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
